The forward view of life from youth is long,

Bold sanguine sally sure of ample years;

From aged stance, reflection seems a song

That lingers on the lips of those held dear.

Oh how does passing time our brains beguile

Where years to weeks confound, and weeks to days?

Would but the aching length of lover’s miles

Contract to measured inches in these ways!

Time’s wields his power from a stingy throne—

And rarely grants beyond four score and ten

Bequeathing life at best on shackled loan;

A bounty that will not be spent again.

I smile and gaze upon my grandchild’s face

Where love and hope eternal, Time disgrace.