ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE

                                [Poem]
                        ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT
                        THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE
                        
                        TEXT OF THE POEM

How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom sheweth.

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear 
That some more timely happy spirits in dueth.

Yet be it less or more, soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot however mean or high,

Towards which time leads me and the will of heaven
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great taskmaster's eye.
                                           -JOhn Milton