  GO slow, O! day immaculate; Much slower than the rest. Master of time, mark every hour As tho’ thou were not pressed,— Or hurried. But more leisurely And gently let them chime. Oh! morn, take off thy wings of speed And let this day be mine. O! day, immaculate and kind, Make no rude haste or speed. But loiter in less trodden paths Walk lightly o’er the mead. Spring and I are holding hands On a green hill’s dazzling crest. Make this day, God, go very slow More slowly than the rest. |
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