The River of Life

Thomas Campbell (1777–1844)

THE MORE we live, more brief appear   Our life’s succeeding stages: A day to childhood seems a year,   And years like passing ages.   The gladsome current of our youth,         5   Ere passion yet disorders, Steals lingering like a river smooth   Along its grassy borders.   But as the care-worn cheeks grow wan,   And sorrow’s shafts fly thicker,         10 Ye Stars, that measure life to man,   Why seem your courses quicker?   When joys have lost their bloom and breath   And life itself is vapid, Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,         15   Feel we its tide more rapid?   It may be strange—yet who would change   Time’s course to slower speeding, When one by one our friends have gone   And left our bosoms bleeding?         20   Heaven gives our years of fading strength   Indemnifying fleetness; And those of youth, a seeming length,   Proportion’d to their sweetness.