Open, Time, and let him pass <br />Shortly where his feet would be! <br />Like a leaf at Michaelmas <br />Swooning from the tree, <br /> <br />Ere its hour the manly mind <br />Trembles in a sure decrease, <br />Nor the body now can find <br />Any hold on peace. <br /> <br />Take him, weak and overworn; <br />Fold about his dying dream <br />Boyhood, and the April morn, <br />And the rolling stream: <br /> <br />Weather on a sunny ridge, <br />Showery weather, far from here; <br />Under some deep-ivied bridge, <br />Water rushing clear: <br /> <br />Water quick to cross and part, <br />(Golden light on silver sound), <br />Weather that was next his heart <br />All the world around! <br /> <br />Soon upon his vision break <br />These, in their remembered blue; <br /> <br />He shall toil no more, but wake <br />Young, in air he knew. <br /> <br />He has done with roofs and men. <br />Open, Time, and let him pass, <br />Vague and innocent again, <br />Into country grass.<br /><br />Louise Imogen Guiney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/open-time/
