Time's a burglar. On his toes Noiselessly the rascal goes; Steals my hair, and in its place Drops long wrinkles on my face; Steals my vigor, and instead With experience crams my head; Steals the trustfulness of youth, Changing it for bitter truth; Steals my friends by slow degrees, Leaving only memories; Steals my hope, my daring bold, Leaving nought but yellow gold. Making these exchanges, he Deems it is no robbery; Yes, and truly; for his stealth Of my dear departed wealth Yet has left the Joy of Life, You, my daughter and my wife! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GRIEF by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WAR IS KIND: 23 by STEPHEN CRANE HOW'S MY BOY? by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 32 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: APOLOGY TO CLEO by WILLIAM BASSE ABIDE WITH US by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR |