If you were coming in the fall
I´d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn
As housewives do a fly

If I could see you in a year
I´d wind the months in balls
And put them each in separate drawers
Until their time befalls

If only centuries delayed
I´d count them on my hand
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen´s land

If certain, when this life was out
That yours and mine should be
I´d toss it yonder like a rind
And taste eternity

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time´s uncertain wing
It goads me, like the goblin bee
That will not state its sting