The imminent sense of doom still remains:
The rapacious battle has not begun
Although single rag of time has been won
But thanks not least to many other's pains.
That instant not of intermediate gains:
Like every second of the temp'rate nun
Add together 'till piety is won,
As like with virgin birth Minerva reigns.
The mill of life will never grind me down:
My iron mind is not cast; it is wrought:
Sealed strong with winter's ice cold arctic blast.
I have heard the mermaids sing; seen them frown
In 'splendent oceans as might well they ought:
No rule states future should resemble past.

anonymous

Apologies for cross posting but rec.arts.poems no longer seems to be
for the posting of poems.