An Ode to my Beloved Lady of Time

You are known to be a capricious lady
Who changes lovers with an insatiable
Delight! For to be steady suits you not
Ever restless, ever thankless, your eye
Switches for victims new, and with joy
Untold, you strike at beauty and talent
Alike, and to dust do turn monument
And power alike! But you sure discern
Not between young and old, and the not
So handsome might not escape your gaze.
Nor might escape those that wake nor those
That sleep, all alike are victims of your spell.
But why does millionaire a beggar turn and
Why does beggar ride the rich man’s throne
Know I not! Yet do you put the sick to sleep
And the dying to smile of times that were
With joy filled! But sometimes do you pour
Salve on wounds that burn, a healer one
Moment, reaper the next. But then Time,
Sure you are a capricious woman that discerns
Not between the sick and the fit, the fair or
The dark, the sweet or the bitter, young or
Old! Yet with one blow of your scythe do you
Level one and all! And yet you flit around the
World with light steps that traipse through
The seasons some fair and some so drab!
And as the shadows do lengthen and I the
Writer of this verse do fight the slumber of
Night, you smile at me one brief time and
Lo, in a split do write what ages took to
Think! For if I could grab the horns of time
Or swing on wings so swift, sure would I
Turn twenty-four into forty-eight! But alas!
Do you flee away with steps so swift,
And I do return to a slogging match to
Complete my verse in time for the morning
Light to read it with! Thus do I wait for a
Moment when my lady love would smile at
Me once more, but alas, she has many more
Worthier than me, the one toiling in the
Dark attic would scarcely a glance draw
From one who’d so capricious and fluid be!

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