There is a stern and ancient man,
Who worketh at a loom,
Weaving the mantle for the bride,
And raiment for the tomb.
From summer-time to summer-time,
His shuttle flieth over,
And if you bid him rest awhile,
He answers, "Never ! Never !"
Yet watch him that his mystic work
Be done as it should be,
For he is weaving every day
A robe for thee and me.
He throws his shuttle to and fro,
The pattern we must give-
Co-workers with the stern old man,
Until we cease to live !
Nor till eternity begins,
Will rest his shuttle's chime-
Our actions are the woop and warp,
The weaver old is time !
Notes
From the Victorian Newspaper Mount Alexander Mail 30 May 1856 p. 7.
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