Time And The Vile Hand Poem by Nero CaroZiv

How soon and swiftly; Time, the subtle thief of youth
Has hastily stolen on his wing my years of youth; of evasive zeal and rapture
My hasting days rash and fly now on with full speed
With no measure to slow down Time and its scudding days
It did not let my late spring to bud or to blossom under the vile hand
My semblance over the years might deceive the truth
That I to manhood am arrived so near with scars hidden virtually deformed
With soul stiffened and stone burden on my heart that stayed un lifted
And my inward ripeness does much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits nevertheless I did endure
Yet be it less or more, or soon or later
That sweet memory of childhood haunts me

I never lost as much without being aware
The deepth of lost and the absence of care
Now I stand a beggar
Before the door of the world!



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