O Time! the beautifier of the dead , Adorner of the ruin, comforter And only healer when the heart hath bled Time! the corrector where our judgments err, The test of truth , love , sole philosopher , For all besides are sophists, from thy thrift Which never loses though it doth defer Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes , and heart , and crave of thee a gift .
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