The Robber.

By Annie Fellows Johnston

DO you know why Time flies by so slow

When we are sad and old?

Why he turns and waits as if loath to go

On his journey cold?

Because from our coffers of hope and youth,

Where we kept life's gold,

He has stolen our treasures all, in sooth,

From their sacred hold.

He who came with a gift in hand

Was a robber bold.

He whose greeting was smooth and bland

Was a wolf in the fold.

And this is the reason that he goes by,

When we're worn and old,

So slowly, because he can scarcely fly

With his weight of gold.