I held up my head, and I march'd like a man!
Old Time brought me friendship, and swift flew the
hours;
Life seem'd an Elysium of sunshine and flowers!
The flowers, but in memory, bear odour and bloom;
And the sun set on friendship, laid low in the tomb!
Yet, Time, shall I blame thee, tho' youth's happy glow
Is fled from my cheeks, that my locks are grey?—No!
What more can I wish (not abusing my prime)
To pilot me home, than a friend like Old Time?