We thought that we were stronger far
Than Old Man Time.
That hand-in-hand we could out-dance
The Lady of the Hours.
That every moment was forever
At our beck and call,
And we would be always young and lovely
As the Spring-time flowers.
We half understood when this one
Turned their face unto the wall,
When that one couldn’t get
A second breath.
But we were slow to understand
That Time is iron,
In its iron will to bring about
Our iron deaths.
Yet when all is said and done and told,
We ever understood that love turned
Iron into gold.
© Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 
“Three lives hath one life –
Iron, honey, gold.”
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The history behind this poem is, I suppose, the same as what happens to most young people
who think they are immortal and that as things are, they will always be. Then, there is the first death of a person the same age – who went to the same school – who, if you ever thought about it, were also immortal. All this happened in what seems a hundred years ago but is as sharp and fresh and sore as it was when it happened.
The quotation is lovely. Where is it from?
Gwen.
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