Time starts ticking, the moment one is born, <br />Appearing too short for things to be done; <br />And Time ceases when over is sojourn; <br />To some ’tis long and ’tis always great fun. <br /> <br />Time is so precious that some waste it not; <br />So they race ’gainst it, to pull off great feats; <br />Time is a web in which some men get caught; <br />However short, one still can be a Keats! <br /> <br />A Scientist’s life-time’s not enough for him; <br />A lazy-bone finds Time not fleeting still; <br />Time’s an empty vessel, tho’ filled to brim! <br />Time’s a feeling of descending the hill. <br /> <br />When prudently used then, Time appears long; <br />A mile to a fool is just a furlong. <br /> <br /> 7-19-2000<br /><br />Dr John Celes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-time/
