When once we slept and rose again to take our  play
we found the grassy fields of summer occupied
by others, fleet and fair and younger still than we
and wholly unaware they ran where we were bound.

I said to you and you to me, "It's done, all that
can be." And yet we lingered, didn't we, to watch
those bold trespassers at their art, to try
their speed in our imaginations, test their skill.

We stood aside, intruders now ourselves, left out
to witness daylight leak away. What more to do?
Could we command those sons of skill to stay their games
while we made sport in our more awkward, breathless way?

At length we left those sports, albeit slowly, not
without regret but sure another day would come.
Another day would find us early in the fields,
alone and hardy, just as we had always been.