Youth and Time
The wonder went from the field of corn,
The glory died on the craggy horn;
And suddenly all was strange and gray,
And the rocks came out on the trodden way.
I hear no more the wild thrush sing:
He is silent now on the peach aswing.
Something is gone from the house of mirth—
Something is gone from the hills of Earth.
Time hurries me on with a wizard hand;
He turns the Earth to a homeless land;
He stays my life with a stingy breath,
And darkens its depths with foreknowledge of death;
Calls memories back on their path apace;
Sends desperate thoughts to the soul's dim place.
Time murders our youth with his sorrow and sin,
And pushes us on to the windowless inn.
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