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Wednesday, September 19, 2018

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.

Hartley Coleridge.

ntodd

September 19, 2018 | Permalink

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