Patterson Clifford

IN A HURRY

When the swallows go, there will be times when they will come again; when the willows are withered, there will be times when they will be green again; when the peach blossoms have withered, there will be times when they will bloom again. But, wise, you tell me, why are our days gone forever? —Someone stole them: who was that? Where is it hidden? It was they who fled: where are they now?