Gatekeepers

Why are you standing here all alone

In front of the gates

And moaning to yourself over your misfortune

Why are you standing here

Alone in front of the gates

When the wars are done

The poet speaks of sweet persuasiveness

And the waste and misery that follow great conflicts

And pleads for tranquil times

Two loves I have of comfort and despair

Which like two spirits do suggest me still

The better angel is a man right fair

The worser spirit a woman coloured ill

How many make the hour full complete;

How many hours bring about the day;

How many days will finish up the year;

How many years a mortal man may live

When this is known then to divide the times:

So many hours must I contemplate;

So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my eyes have been with young;

So many weeks there the poor fools will lean:

So many years there I shall shear the fleece:

So minutes hours days months and years

Passed over to the end they were created

Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave

Ah what a life were this

How sweet this

How lovely