VI.

Time owes me such a heavy debt,
   How can he ever make things right?
For suns that with no promise set
   To help me greet the morning light,

For dreams that no fruition met,
   For joys that passed from bud to blight,
Time owes me such a heavy debt;
   How can he ever make things right?

For passions balked, with strain and fret
   Of hopes delayed, or perished quite,
For kisses that I did not get
   On many a love impelling night,
Time owes me such a heavy debt;
   How can he ever make things right?