Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
William Henry WhitworthTime and Death
I
Calm, stern, and cold he sate, and often shook
And turn’d his glass, nor ever car’d to look
How many of life’s sands were still behind.
And there was Death, his page, aghast to find
How tremblingly, like aspens o’er a brook,
His blunted dart fell harmless; so he took
His master’s scythe, and idly smote the wind.
Smite on, thou gloomy one, with powerless aim!
For Sin, thy mother, at her dying breath
Wither’d that arm, and left thee but a name.
Hope clos’d the grave, when He of Nazareth,
Who led captivity His captive, came
And vanquish’d the great conquerors, Time and Death.