Like an unused Spectator, who in fear
Stands midst some enginery, where wheel and chain
Flame ceaselessly and axles vast complain,
Terror to the eye and to the shrinking ear,
So in some thoughtful hours may we stand here,
While Time takes voice, and shrieking as in pain
Fly hour and day, and many a shock and strain
Torments the awful spindle of the Year.
O Friend, with terror—with consuming dread
I listen: but thy blessed voice I drink
Joyful in holy hope, and calm is spread
Upon my soul, and beyond Time I dare
To look, and of myself and thee to think,
Twin Angels sailing through celestial air!