Quiet Mountain Essays

Copyright © 2005; All Rights Reserved by Author

The Hourglass
by
Mary Ann Rager

Daylight is fading,
     Too soon the shadows creep.
Hold back the dark,
     I have no time to sleep.
Because I squandered the daylight,
     I now must use the night.
Oh let me wake one day,
     In some ethereal land,
Where time stands still
     And the hour glass has no sand.

O sweet child of youth,
     This is your daylight time.
You cannot see the shadows,
     That all about you creep.
I bid you savour fully,
     Your young sunlit hour.
For you will write about them
     In some far off cloistered bower.

Contributor's Notes...

Mrs. Mary Ann Rager lives in South Dakota with her Reverend husband, where she is a popular
pastoral poet.  Mrs. Rager is active in the South Dakota Poetry Society and has published in Pasque
Petals.

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