‘Tis now the final hour of the day,
And fading sunlight coats each thing in gold
As though a miser here did have his sway,
Commanding Nature give him things to hold.
‘Tis now the season for all things to live,
Since they’ve survived and winter winds have blown:
Spring’s gentle breezes laughing mirth now give,
As daffodils do make their presence known.
‘Tis now: and Time can make that “now” seem cruel,
Like Fortune’s wheel turning ever on:
One’s life unwinds before one like a spool,
A moment captured’s still a moment gone.
‘Tis now, and soon it shall no longer be;
Yet “now” continues on through poetry.