Long time a child, and still a child, when years Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I; For yet I lived like one not born to die; A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears, No hope I needed, and I knew no fears, But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking, I waked to sleep no more, at once o'ertaking The vanguard of my age, with all arrears Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is grey, For I have lost the race I never ran, A rathe December blights my lagging May; And still I am a child, tho' I be old, Time is my debtor for my years untold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AEOLIAN HARP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE OFF THE GROUND by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE BROTHER AND SISTER by MARY ANN EVANS TO MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT (ON HER BIRTHDAY, 1723) by ALEXANDER POPE LET NO CHARITABLE HOPE by ELINOR WYLIE THE PIKER'S RUBAIYAT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LAUTERBRUNNEN by THOMAS GOLD APPLETON |