With fingers softer than the touch of death,
The sundial writes the passing of the day,
The hours unfolding slow to twilight gray,
The gleaming moments vanish in a breath.
But sunny hours alone the sundial names;
All unrecorded are the midnight spans
And vain within the dusk the watcher scans
The marble face; thereon no record flames.
So on eternal dials that God may hold,
And those more humble in the human heart,
No bitter deeds their passing hours impart;
Kind deeds alone are marked in fadeless gold!


PHOTO CREDIT : DARIUSZ PIOSIK
Bookmark (0)
ClosePlease loginn

 

Affiliate Disclosure: Some of the links or advertisements in the wordket website are affiliate links or advertisements, meaning, at no additional cost to you. We will earn a commission, if you click through and make a purchase. Thank you 🙂

Leave a Reply

You May Also Like
Read More

Proof

Like a bad suitor desperate and trembling From the mixed sense of being not loved and loving, Who…
Read More

The Paradox

He that goes back does, since he goes, advance, Though he doth not advance who goeth back, And…
Read More

But Why?

A wise man sat in the audience and cracked a joke. Everybody laughs like crazy. After a moment, he…
Read More

Window Shopping

Socrates believed that the wise person would instinctively lead a frugal life. He himself would not even wear shoes;…
Read More

The Chase

A martial arts student approached his teacher with a question. “I’d like to improve my knowledge of the martial…