Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

Alas, Time stays, we go.

And I wove the thing to a random rhyme,For the Rose is Beauty, the Gardener, Time.

And I wove the thing to a random rhyme,
For the Rose is Beauty, the Gardener, Time.

The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,-- It wavers to a rose.

I intended an Ode, And it turned to a Sonnet.