Before Andrew Marvell, Time
Walked or sometimes ran about the world
Or strolled if he chose, resting
Under trees or on piles of leaves
Or in the shadows of ruined churches.
Sometimes he'd hitch a ride
On a farmer's cart or a sailor,
Pitying him -- Time is very old --
Would let him sleep on a coil of rope
But dawdling, ambling Time
Seemed undignified to Marvell; somehow --
I can't think where he found the money --
He bought Time a winged chariot
Since which time Time has grown strange
And aloof, seldom talking
To farmers or sailors and only rarely
Lets anyone ride next to him
Or even just stand on the running-board.
B
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