Be Not Impatient (a sonnet)
By JBN

Let me admit of yearning for the new,
Impatient with the now, and tired of then.
Things yet to come o’r filling every view—
Obsessed with moving on, and knowing when.

When twelve, at last, sixteen the perfect age,
And when sixteen, all thoughts for twenty-one.
Long school days spent so bored and hot for change—
A dream of work, if college ever done.

Oh, when, at last, to lead a lass to bed?
That job for which I’d be the perfect hire—
And when some children, should I ever wed?
How hard the wait until time to retire!

Yet, when I look beyond tomorrow’s door
There’s one event I’m not impatient for.