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 NEW COLOSSUS by EMMA LAZARUS THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE CATARACT OF LODORE by ROBERT SOUTHEY SONGS OF TRAVEL: 2. YOUTH AND LOVE: 1 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE END OF THE PLAY by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY ONCE I PASS'D THROUGH A POPULOUS CITY by WALT WHITMAN TO MYRTILLA OF NEW YORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |