AN EXERCISE IN FUTILITY
My time had come and I was not so keen,
To leave this world-for, with all pomp and frill,
I had enjoyed its pleasures – and unseen
Were still to be enjoyed. Many still
Were trails which beckoned me with impish charm.
So I engaged old Time in deep debate,
To slacken Him me thought would do no harm,
And on some problems make him speculate.
I said “To hurry is a brazen waste.”
He looked befooled; I added with a nod,
”And if you must, then slowly, slowly haste.”
He chuckled, told me “Move with a prod.”
I didn’t argue, weep or make comment,
For Time, the hunter, brooks no argument.
