By William Henry Davies
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
This is feeling appropriate tonight, as I finally sit down at the computer at midnight to capture any logical thoughts that might have managed to survive the last eighteen hours. In the end, I’m left with my forehead resting in my hands and thinking about how fast time goes and why we spend so much of it doing things we despise. I realize we must all be grown-ups and responsible to a certain degree, but this cannot be what life was intended for; mundane and unsatisfactory work to pay for the “just in case” possibilities of life and every other nickel and dime expense. I know that soon enough I’ll be making strides away from life as I know it today, to reach for something more fulfilling but sometimes it’s not easy to question how much time we’ve missed by being responsible and by simply not living. Makes me admire hippies a little bit. I know I can’t let go that much, but maybe there is a happy medium.
Photo courtesy of www.llgc.org.uk