CITIES and Thrones and Powers,
Stand in Times eye,
Almost as long as flowers,
Which daily die:
But, as new buds put forth
To glad new men,
Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth,
The Cities rise again.This seasons Daffodil,
She never hears,
What change, what chance, what chill,
Cut down last years;
But with bold countenance,
And knowledge small,
Esteems her seven days continuance,
To be perpetual.So Time that is oer-kind,
To all that be,
Ordains us een as blind,
As bold as she:
That in our very death,
And burial sure,
Shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith,
See how our works endure!