To a Late Comer

Why didst thou come into my life so late? If it were morning I could welcome thee With glad all-hails, and bid each hour to be The willing servitor of thine estate, Lading thy brave ships with Time’s richest freight; If it were noonday I might hope to see On some fair height thy banners floating free, And hear the acclaiming voices call thee great! But it is nightfall and the stars are out; Far in the west the crescent moon hangs low, And near at hand the lurking shadows wait; Darkness and silence gather round about, Lethe’s black stream is near its overflow,— Ah, friend, dear friend, why didst thou come so late?