Time And I Pass To And Fro, Hardly Greeting As We Go, - Go Askant, Like Crossing Wings Of Sea-Gulls Where The Brave Sea Sings. Time, The Messenger Of Fate! Cunning Master Of Debate, Cunning Soother Of All Sorrow, Ruthless Robber Of To-Morrow; Tyrant To Our Dallying Feet, Though Patron Of A Life Complete; Like Puck Upon A Rosy Cloud, He Rides To Distance While We Woo Him, - Like Pale Remorse Wrapped In A Shroud, He Brings The World In Sackcloth To Him! O Dimly Seen, And Often Met As Shadowings Of A Wild Regret! O King Of Us, Yet Feebly Served; Dispenser Of The Dooms Reserved; So Silent At The Folly Done, So Deadly When Our Respite'S Gone! - As Sea-Gulls, Slanting, Cross At Sea, So Cross Our Rapid Flights With Thee.