Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age,
When hours were long and days sufficed to hold
Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled
By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage
Of undone¹ duties, modern heritage,
Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold
Thy presence from this over-busy world,
And bearing silence with thee disengage
Our twined fortunes?  Deeps of unhewn woods
Alone can cherish thee, alone possess
Thy quiet, teeming² vigor³.  This our crime:
Not to have worshipped, marred⁴ by alien moods
That sole condition of all loveliness,
The dreaming lapse⁵ of slow, unmeasured time.

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