Sonnet CCCIX: The Years Repeat Themselves; and Now, Once More,
The years repeat themselves; and now, once more,
The day that gave my darling birth is here;
How swift, alas! in what a mad career
The rushing sands of happy days outpour!
Stay, Time, a little! Let not life be o’er
Ere we can taste its fulness—life so dear,
So sweet to both!—from whom thou’st stolen a year,
Who grudged thee every moment of thy score.
Let this console us; though we plead in vain
To stolid Time, that as his days go by,
Love draws us closer, makes more clear our sky;
Assures a future so secure and plain,
That our exulting hearts, as one, may cry,
Time, do thy worst! thy loss has been our gain.
