The time of frolic now has flown,
and old with wisdom they have grown.
Their carefree laughter now is gone;
is gone, but not forgotten.
Decisions, worry, want and pain,
have bent their shoulders deep,
and hate and greed have dulled their eyes,
and fear, and lack of sleep.
Responsibility, that Master mean,
has piled too high his load:
many, the weight too great to bear,
have fallen by the road.
Deep sorrow, heavy and profound,
erases youth’s glad dimples;
yet they plod forward with their load:
a load that kills and cripples.
And still they trudge up Life’s steep hill,
and ponder Life’s great plan:
and behold! from that chaos,
from that chaos steps a man.
