The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.
The forward violet thus did I chide:
"Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells
When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be very proud and great,
I've tinkered at my bits of rhymes
In weary, woeful, waiting times;
In doleful hours of battle-din,
Ere yet they brought the wounded in;
one thing then another
one story then another conversation
always interrupted by another conversation
Let me look always forward. Never back.
Was I not formed for progress? Otherwise
With onward pointing feet and searching eyes
Rang our fathers' battle-cry.
On the last day of the year,
I would like to leave behind
One big emotion,
Yesterday is past happenings
I must not return favors
Looking to the future