Classic Poem

The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less;°
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man's distress.°
And I not help. Nor word now of success:°
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one—
Work which to see scarce so much as begun
Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness.°
Or what is else? There is your world within.°
There rid the dragons, root out there the sin.°
Your will is law in that small commonweal.