Time by David McKee Wright

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The years go slowly up the hill,
And pause to glance and stay to talk,
Like an old man on a morning walk,
Until they reach the crown;
Then with the speed of a boy's will
They run on and down.

O years, if you were young as fair,
Running on and up the hill,
With swift feet that were ever still,
You might pause a while on the crown
And let the old man breathe the air
As he walked slowly down.

But you are old and life is young,
And time and joy go ill together;
You speed a man like a wind-tossed feather,
And draw a boy like a weight of lead.
And ever and ever the song sung
Is a mourning for days dead.

The velvet wind, the silken day
And all the little laughing grasses
cry shame on Time because he passes
With a jest on his foolish tongue;
But he has come so far, they say,
And he has so far to go, they say,
He is old before he is young.

First published in The Bulletin, 26 February 1925

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on February 26, 2011 10:23 AM.

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