“I shall worry, boys, if you stay too long.”
Gone are the days of the long ago,—
O lagging Time, now you move so slow!
The rosy skies of our barefoot days
Lie hidden from view by a misty haze.
Jim he got tired and slipped away,—
Left me alone to swim and play;
The statues of greatness—in vain we planned,—
Never appeared from the sculptor’s hand!
And there came a day, I its reckoning keep,