Henry Alford

Sonnet XLVI." Each morn the same sun rises on our day"

Each morn the same sun rises on our day, Measuring with every year his usual round; The merry bells that for our birthdays sound, And those that knoll us to our homes of clay, Speak ever with one voice; the skies obey Spring whispering soft, and summer blossom--crowned, And autumn flush, and winter icy--bound: Down Life's smooth channel Ages sleep their way. The babe that smiling in her slumber lies Lapt in thy breast, hath been there oft before; This day, this room, hath all been acted e'er; And even the thought not first in me doth rise;-- Time measures but the course of human will; 'Tis we that move, while Providence is still.