O TIME, that fliest on never-failing wings,
Consuming years, consuming memory,
Consuming strength, and bringing vain regrets
For lost delight and ne'er-recurring hours,
Yet bringing with thee healing for the past,
Hope for the future, pardon, comfort, peace;
O kindly Time, thou canst not e'er return
To give us back the past, but thou canst give
Things better for the future; this is thine,
To soothe where thou hast wounded, and to dry
The tears that thou hast caused and at the last
To still life's tumult thou hast raised, in death.