The Passage of Time

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Where has time made haste to run
That I should find my bearing?
Where has gone the sweet music sung
By songbirds in chorus sharing?

Those days are past, but why do I
Feel robbed of their gentle fondness
That now I stand with mournful eye
Surrounded by growing darkness

What trick is this, oh what deceit!
That robs with such anonymity?
That words I have scarce to speak
Of such treacherous perfidy!

That those days are gone, I know
And only this, can I declare
For by what art I cannot show
And now have ceased to care

A passenger am I, through course
Transversed at varying pace
I will not strive to plumb the source
But only watch the race