I wist not where my foot had dropped;
But at the door of a world I stopped.
With little act and little thought,
I saw him in his waistcoat frocked.
He said to me, “No time!”
I grew a deal, but I was small;
I drank from life a little of all;
I rose and tottered from a crawl;
And listened ’bout me for his call,
The ringing words, “No time!”
I marched, I circled with the rest;
I sang the chants and took the test;
And all for naught it was at best–
The race was never done, I guessed.
He worried on. “No time!”
I searched through leaf and vale and plain;
I searched his house, calling his name.
Was I his slave, his pride, his shame;
His Mary Ann, as he did claim?
He twitched and cried, “No time!”
By him I walked among the great,
Touched the hem and entered the gate,
Found it false, but spoke too late;
“Silence her!” and “Off with her pate!”
He saw I had no time.
My world, scatt’ring threes and twos,
I cared not who would win or lose;
For games and such I had no use.
Yet, I was his and he was whose,
The one who had no time?
When I awoke beside my tree,
So real and safe that stood by me,
I cast aside the memory
That he had not had time for me.
He’s running with no time.