Time
(1984)
Two thirds of my expected span are gone:
Scarce twenty-five more years remain to me
In which to make my mark in history.
It is too short, too brief a time, (God knows),
For building stairs to immortality!.
John Keats, that skilful genius, himself
Just reached in total that life left to me,
Yet he achieved such all-enduring fame.
Hardly less-talented others also died
Youthful in years, though full in wisdom aged.
Who knows what in the future waits for him?.
Who knows if great success will star his life,
Or abject failure?. Who, indeed, can safely say
Whether his best achievements will outlast his day.
