  So softly Time trod with me, that I lost His footsteps pacing mine. I stayed the while To wrest the luscious fruits from love and life; He strode on pauselessly, with thin cold smile. So surely Time trod with me; marred my bloom, Stole all my roses, spread his cobwebs grey, Wrung all my tresses in his silvering hand; So stealthily he lured my youth away I only learned that I was old—to-day. I could have borne it bravely, this I know, Had not the lips of children told me so. |
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