A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

Leisure

          Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age,
           When hours were long and days sufficed to hold
           Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled
          By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage
          Of undone duties, modern heritage,
           Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold
           Thy presence from this over-busy world,
          And bearing silence with thee disengage
           Our twined fortunes?  Deeps of unhewn woods
           Alone can cherish thee, alone possess
          Thy quiet, teeming vigor.  This our crime:
           Not to have worshipped, marred by alien moods
           That sole condition of all loveliness,
          The dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time.