Time Is Our Enemy
Seasons pass by while I still.
It is neither the zephyr, blowing shrill,
That gives me the thrill.
Nor the coldness of a winter chill,
Which makes me ill.
It is the time; with a relentless will,
That breezes through my window sill.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Time Is Our Enemy by Baris Bavkir )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Naveed Khalid
(1 January 1903 - 13 March 1976)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Sir Walter Scott
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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