Poems (Ford)/The Wave of Time

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THE WAVE OF TIME.
The tide of time rolls swiftly by,
 But ne'er flows back again,
And though for vanished days we sigh,
 Our grieving is in vain;
The matin of the rising day,
 The silvery evening chime,
The sounds we love, all float away
 Upon the wave of time.

Of what avail are earthly joys,
 Or worldly honors vain—
 ​The pleasure which true peace destroys,
 And leaveth naught but pain?
Life here is but a pilgrimage
 Unto a fairer clime,
Where all past sorrows buried are
 Beneath the wave of time.

May we while here on earth aspire
 To reach the brighter world,
Where night's dark banner o'er the day
 Will never be unfurled,
Where angel hands sweep golden harps,
 And seraph-songs sublime
Gush in glad strains of silvery sound
 Beyond the wave of time.

Oh, may we fix our hearts upon!
 The joys that ne'er decay,
Nor heed the fading things of earth,
 That soon must pass away;
The fleeting joys that here we prize
 Will with ourselves decline,
And soon, forgotten, we shall sink
 Beneath the wave of time.

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