Poem by Ella Higginson. This poem was published in When the Birds Go North Again (The Macmillan Company, 1898). It is in the public domain.
The hours steal by with still, unmasking lips—
So lightly that I cannot hear their tread;
And softly touch me with their finger-tips
To find if I be dreaming, or be dead.
And yet however still their flight may be,
Their ceaseless going weights my heart with tears;
These touches will have wrought deep scars on me—
When the light hours have worn to heavy years.
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