Hark to the faster beating of my heart
As my eyes see that time hath grown much less.
Wherefore dost we leave so near from the start?
The thought hath haunted me, I must confess.

Ere present, in thy early days of youth,
I admired the blank tapestry in awe.
Anon, I start to feel the chill of truth.
My palate hath less color than I’d saw.

But mark, scarce time hath all the greater worth.
Pray, don’t let it make thee hold back thy love.
I’ll learn to grasp each new chance at its birth
And cherish each day; a gift from above.

Though many, from the end dost try to hide,
I won’t let fear hold my passion inside.