Open, Time, and let him pass 
Shortly where his feet would be! 
Like a leaf at Michaelmas 
Swooning from the tree, 

Ere its hour the manly mind 
Trembles in a sure decrease, 
Nor the body now can find 
Any hold on peace. 

Take him, weak and overworn; 
Fold about his dying dream 
Boyhood, and the April morn, 
And the rolling stream: 

Weather on a sunny ridge, 
Showery weather, far from here; 
Under some deep-ivied bridge, 
Water rushing clear: 

Water quick to cross and part, 
(Golden light on silver sound), 
Weather that was next his heart 
All the world around! 

Soon upon his vision break 
These, in their remembered blue; 

He shall toil no more, but wake 
Young, in air he knew. 

He has done with roofs and men. 
Open, Time, and let him pass, 
Vague and innocent again, 
Into country grass.