W. C. Scully - Barren Time lyrics

Oft would my soul sing, but the heart, her lyre, Tear-wet and warped by mine and other's woe, Lies in the dust unstrung, whilst flicker slow The embers of its faint and fading fire; So here I sit and watch the moments flow As into past-times' realm the years retire, With scant gleaned grain within my hands to show,-- Scant grain of deed or song, my soul's desire If now God's messenger, pale d**h, should ask:-- "What good hast thou to show for these thy years? Hast thou made thy life real, or but a masque?" What answer could I give? Of which one task, By grace whereof men's smiles were lit or tears Dried, could I say: "My scroll the record bears?"