---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 1
number: 3
published: 1898-01
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations, "Time’s Song," *Improvement Era* 1, no. 3 (January 1898): 185.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera13unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera13unse
start_page: 185
end_page: 185
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1898-01)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera13unse
  publication_year: 1898
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1898, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Time’s Song

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RELIGIOUS FAITHS. 186

and not arrogantly to be the true branch of Christ's Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church for the English-speaking world.

TIME'S SONG.

O'er the level plain where mountains greet me as I go, O'er the desert waste where fountains at my bidding flow, On the boundless beam by day, on the cloud by night, I am rushing hence away! who will chain my flight?

War his weary watch was keeping — I have crushed his spear: Grief within her bower was weeping— ^ I have dried her tear: Pleasure caught a minute's hold — then I hurried by, Leaving all her banquet cold and her goblet dry.

Power had won a throne of glory — where is now his fame? Genius said, "I live in story" — who hath heard his name? Love, beneath a myrtle bough, whisper'd — "why so fast?" And the roses on his brow withered as I passed.

I have heard the heifer lowing o'er the wide wave's bed; I have seen the billow flowing where the cattle fed; Where began my wanderings? Memory will not say! Where will rest my weary wings? Science turns away!

Anon.