So True That We Grow Wise So Late

So true that we grow wise so late And old too soon And time impatient now to wait The changing moon For all that beauty is but stone Lit by sun's fire And in its truth it stands alone Cusp of desire The heart incessant like the tide Keep faith with sand And trickling clock, and doubts still chide The moon as rocks Where then is the harbour of love When flowers fade And no faith is left there above And truth no shade