Now hear young one, my student of time
You moody child with fierce virgin eyes
Sage calls from stony grave’s near place
Seize the hour! And haste!
Little thought you give to Summer’s threads on the looms of time
A spool of pools of juices of long easy sighs
So now – Run! Chuck caution and idle’s foolish beckons
And have your frenzy of fleeting freedoms, lest they lesson
Sickles come sheaves – Stay! One moment more!
Now ease young one, fall brings subsequent peace
Yet grip to Summer’s sun
Grip to Summer’s time
Then release, pupil of mine