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...COLORS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SPECIAL EFFECTS by JAMES GALVIN THE LEAVES OF THE TREE HIDE THE SUN by DAVID IGNATOW DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE |