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How soon hath time

Poetry

By MohsinPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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How soon hath time
Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth

B

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,

Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

My hasting days fly on with full career,

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth

That I to manhood am arriv'd so near;

And inward ripeness doth much less appear,

That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th.

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure ev'n

To that same lot, however mean or high,

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav'n:

All is, if I have grace to use it so

As ever in my great Task-Master's eye.

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About the Creator

Mohsin

creative writer

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