Where flies the future on the morrow?
Which by-an-by some advent calls
life to light; which in coming,
In time is lost, by the act of going.

All that is years, the measure of age,
Mature and ripe, full and flowered,
Past one's prime, in the sere
With one foot in and worse for wear:

Until dead and off, a creature stalks
Dry or rainy, nightly comes ....
In solstice swing and equinox ...
Through Aries, Cancer, Capricorn ...

In proper time, in fullness shows.
In passing, by the by - it turns
To pinch, clutch, squeeze, and rub,
To hinge past, and push on luck.

Untimely, importune, half-cocked
This creature is an evil-hour
That feasts on those who miss the bus
And locks the door on those who dote.

It steals on those with time to spare,
It swiftly gains on those who rush,
Soon enough such said - than done!
Straight with, forewith, it overruns

The late, the tardy, and those behind,
Delayed, detained, those who dally,
Those who stroll, hold off, prolong,
Put on ice, postpone with red-tape:

'Til the morn, red-fingered dawn,
Has woke the lark at cocklight call
And noon glides on to afternoon
And moves upon the close of day