The hour is lost ...

... by the Australian poet John Shaw Neilson capture the fleeting nature of time ... 

THE hour is lost. Was ever hour so sweet?
Fruitful of blessing, friends and honeyed words—
The sunlight in our faces—at our feet
The world, bright, beautiful, its flocks and herds,
Foliage of forests, choruses of birds . . .
O happy time, why did we stand downcast?
We should have leapt for love: but now, the hour is past.

The hour is lost. Scarce had we time to mark
The glory of the green, the sky's soft blue;
It came as silently as comes the dark,
Our hearts burned hot within us ere we knew . . .
Then suddenly we said, Can it be true
This golden time was ours?—and now downcast
We stand dumb and amazed. Alas! the hour is past.