David Smalling Poet Verse

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

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