LONG time a child, and still a child, when years <br />Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I, - <br />For yet I lived like one not born to die; <br />A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears, <br />No hope I needed, and I knew no fears. <br />But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking, <br />I waked to sleep no more, at once o'ertaking <br />The vanguard of my age, with all arrears <br />Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man, <br />Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is gray, <br />For I have lost the race I never ran: <br />A rathe December blights my lagging May; <br />And still I am a child, though I be old, <br />Time is by debtor for by years untold.<br /><br />Hartley Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/long-time-a-child/
