Yes, I know that I am slowing down,
Struggling to drag myself around
As I go from town to town
Plying the trade shown by my gown.
But that I'm slow means I've not stopped,
And I can see the grass uncropped
As flowers from it now have popped
And rabbits have within it hopped.
I ever seem to need more done.
No sooner that I have begun,
My set of tasks will grow by one--
And people demand I have fun.
I trudge along. I will succeed.
I will answer all my need,
And I will some old wisdom heed.
I go; it matters not the speed.
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