Not all my treasure hath the bandit Time Locked in his glimmering caverns of the Past: Fair women dead and friendships of old rhyme, And noble dreams that had to end at last:-- Ah! these indeed; and from youth's sacristy Full many a holy relic hath he torn, Vessels of mystic faith God filled for me, Holding them up to Him in life's young morn. All these are mine no more--Time hath them all, Time and his adamantine gaoler Death: Despoilure vast--yet seemeth it but small, When unto thee I turn, thy bloom and breath Filling with light and incense the last shrine, Innermost, inaccessible,--yea, thine.…
Or read it translated: 日本語 · 中文 · हिन्दी · Español · العربية · Français · বাংলা · Português · Русский · Bahasa Indonesia · اردو · Deutsch · Kiswahili · 한국어