“The Sun-Dial at Wells CollegeThe shadow by my finger castDivides the future from the past:Before it, sleeps the unborn hourIn darkness, and beyond thy power:Behind its unreturning line,The vanished hour, no longer thine:One hour alone is in thy hands,--The NOW on which the shadow stands. ”

“The shadow by my finger castDivides the future from the past:Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, In darkness, and beyond thy power.Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine:One hour alone is in thy hands,-The NOW on which the shadow stands.”

“Shun such as lounge through afternoons and eves,And on thy dial write, "Beware of thieves!"Felon of minutes, never taught to feelThe worth of treasures which thy fingers steal,Pick my left pocket of its silver dime,But spare the right,--it holds my golden time!”

“There are three lessons I would write-Three words, as with a burning pen, In tracings of eternal light,Upon the heart of men.Have hope! though clouds environ round,And gladness hides her face in scorn,Put thou the shadow from thy brow,No night but hath its morn.Have love! not love alone for one, But man as man thy brother call,And scatter like the circling sun,Thy charities on all.”

“When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,For all the day they view things unrespected;But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,How would thy shadow's form form happy showTo the clear day with thy much clearer light,When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed madeBy looking on thee in the living day,When in dead night thy fair imperfect shadeThrough heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!All days are nights to see till I see thee,And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.”

“Is it thy will, thy image should keep openMy heavy eyelids to the weary night?Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from theeSo far from home into my deeds to pry,To find out shames and idle hours in me,The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:It is my love that keeps mine eye awake:Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,To play the watchman ever for thy sake:For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,From me far off, with others all too near.”