Short Days.
Now is the Sun, erst spendthrift of his rays And lavish of his largesses of light, Become a miser in his latter days, An avaricious dotard, alter'd quite. Is he the same that all the summer long Strew'd with ungrudging hand his gleaming gold? Can such ill grace to high estate belong? Can bright be dim? can warm so soon be cold? Ay, but he goes his parsimonious way, And hoards his shining treasures from the view, And garners up his riches 'gainst the day When Earth, the prodigal, shall beg anew; Then to her need he'll give no niggard dole, But wealth incalculable, heart and soul.
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"Now is the Sun, erst spendthrift of his rays..."
W. M. MacKeracher's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Short Days."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...