Archibald
Y . Campbell .
ANIMULA
VAGULA .
N
IGHT stirs but wakens not, her breathings
climb
To
one slow
sigh ;
the
strokes
of many
twelves
From
unseen
spires mechanically
chime,
Mingling like
echoes ,
to
frustrate themselves
;
My
soul, remember
Time.
The
tones
like
smoke
into
the stillness
curl,
The
slippered
hours their
placid
business ply ,
And
in
thy
hand
there
lies
occasion 's
pearl ;
But thou
art
playing
with
it
absently ,
And
dreaming , like
a girl.