TIME is a thief who leaves his tools behind him; <br />He comes by night, he vanishes at dawn; <br />We track his footsteps, but we never find him <br />Strong locks are broken, massive bolts are drawn, <br /> <br />And all around are left the bars and borers, <br />The splitting wedges and the prying keys, <br />Such aids as serve the soft-shod vault-explorers <br />To crack, wrench open, rifle as they please. <br /> <br />Ah, these are tools which Heaven in mercy lends us <br />When gathering rust has clenched our shackles fast, <br />Time is the angel-thief that Nature sends us <br />To break the cramping fetters of our past. <br /> <br />Mourn as we may for treasures he has taken, <br />Poor as we feel of hoarded wealth bereft, <br />More precious are those implements forsaken, <br />Found in the wreck his ruthless hands have left. <br /> <br />Some lever that a casket's hinge has broken <br />Pries off a bolt, and lo! our souls are free; <br />Each year some Open Sesame is spoken, <br />And every decade drops its master-key. <br /> <br />So as from year to year we count our treasure, <br />Our loss seems less, and larger look our gains; <br />Time's wrongs repaid in more than even measure,-- <br />We lose our jewels, but we break our chains.<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-angel-thief/
