On His Being Arrived to the Age of Sixty-five
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my sixty and fifth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely‑happy spirits indu’th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Task‑master’s eye.
John Milton
What's going on?
There seems to be something exciting going on.
The "Blower Helpers" are getting ready!
Hurry Up Grandpa!
Grandma strikes again. Thank You Grandma Pam.
