Picasso, "Circus"
Another end of the year reminds us that time marches inexorably on. In this bittersweet poem Ralph Hodgson reminds us that we can’t stop it for love or money, but his metaphor of life as a caravan at least reminds us that it is filled with color while it lasts.
Time, You Old Gypsy Man
By Ralph Hodgson
Time, You Old Gypsy Man
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
All things I’ll give you
Will you be my guest,
Bells for your jennet
Of silver the best,
Goldsmiths shall beat you
A great golden ring,
Peacocks shall bow to you,
Little boys sing.
Oh, and sweet girls will
Festoon you with may,
Time, you old gypsy,
Why hasten away?
Last week in Babylon,
Last night in Rome,
Morning, and in the crush
Under Paul’s dome;
Under Pauls’ dial
You tighten your rein -
Only a moment,
And off once again;
Off to some city
Now blind in the womb,
Off to another
Ere that’s in the tomb.
Time, you old gypsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
One Comment
Mr. Bates,
this is interesting. The picture and poem. Beautiful…
Thank you…
Good Night…