10 Deep Poems About Time Running Out Quickly

Time passes by in the form of days, weeks, months and years without even realizing that so much time has passed. Time passes whether it is good or bad, but the one who uses the time rightly, i.e. treats people with love, avoids bad deeds, gives the right time to his business, gets imprinted in the mirror of history. And that which is not spent in the best way brings nothing but regret. Here are deep poems about time running which will inspire you to spend your time in a better way.

Years Slip By

Deep Poems About Time Running Out Quickly


How It Flies

Poet: Catherine Pulsifer

Never take for granted – time
Who says you will have tomorrow.
Don’t put off living today
Otherwise, you may find sorrow.

Never waste it – time
It is precious and goes by fast.
When you’re young you
Forever you think it will last.

But, time goes by
In a flash of an eye.
And as we get older
We understand how it flies.


Now Is The Time

Poet: Unknown

If you have a word of praise,
Now’s the time!
Should the sky, while flowers are growing,
Stint its gracious dew-bestowing.
Ne’er would come the rainbow glowing
Blossom time.

If you have a kiss to give,
Now’s the time!
Lips, like flowers, soon are faded.
Life-blood pallid, checked, and jaded,
If they are not love-o’ershaded,
Kissed in time.

If you have a prayer to pray,
Now’s the time!
Not to every hour are given
Upward look and open heaven;
Oh, be strengthened, gladdened, shriven.
While there’s time!


There Is A Time

There is a Time Poem


When I Have Time

Poet: Miriam Brown

When I have time so many things I’ll do
To make life happier and more fair
For those whose lives are crowded now with care;
I’ll help to lift them from their low despair,
When I have time.

When I have the time the friend I love so well
Shall know no more these weary toiling days;
I’ll lead her feet in pleasant paths always,
And cheer her heart with words of sweetest praise,
When I have time.

When you have time! The friend you hold so dear
May be beyond the reach of all your sweet intent;
May never know that you so kindly meant
To fill her life with sweet content,
When you had time.

Now is the time! Ah, friend, no longer wait
To scatter loving smiles and words of cheer
To those around whose lives are now so dear;
They may not need you in the coming year
Now is the time.


No Time For God

Poet: Unknown

No time for God?
What fools we are to clutter up
Our lives with common things
And leave without heart’s gate
The Lord of Life and life itself,
Our God!

No time for God?
As soon to say no time
to eat, sleep, love or die.
Take time for God
or you shall dwarf your soul,

And when the death angel
Comes knocking at your door
A poor misshapen thing you’ll be
To step into eternity

No time for God?
That day when sickness
Comes or trouble finds you out,
And you cry out to God,
Will He have time for you?

No time for God?
Some day you’ll lay aside
This mortal self and make your way
To worlds unknown
And when you meet Him face to face,
Will He – should He –
Have time for you?



Poet: Sarah Knowles Bolton

Forget the past and live the present hour;
Now is the time to work, the time to fill
The soul with noblest thoughts, the time to will
Heroic deeds, to use whatever dower
Heaven has bestowed, to test our utmost power.
Now is the time to live, and, better still,
To serve our loved ones; over passing ill

To rise triumphant; thus the perfect flower
Of life shall come to fruitage; wealth amass
For grandest giving ere the time be gone.
Be glad to-day–to-morrow may bring tears;
Be brave to-day; the darkest night will pass
And golden days will usher in the dawn;
Who conquers now shall rule the coming years.


The Hours

Poet: Christopher Pearse Cranch

The hours are viewless angels,
That still go gliding by,
And bear each minute’s record up
To him who sits on high;
And we who walk among them,
As one by one departs,
See not that they are hovering
Forever round our hearts.

Like summer bees that hover
Around the idle flowers,
They gather every act and thought,
Those viewless angel-hours;
The poison or the nectar
The heart’s deep flower cups yield,
A sample still they gather swift,
And leave us in the field.

And some flit by on pinions
Of joyous gold and blue,
And some flag on with drooping wing
Of sorrow’s darker hue;
But still they steal the record
And bear it far away;
Their mission-flight, by day and night,
No magic power can stay.

And as we spend each minute
That God to us has given,
The deeds are known before his throne,
The tale is told in heaven.
Those bee-like hours we see not,
Nor hear their noiseless wings;
We often feel–too oft–when flown
That they have left their stings.

So teach me, heavenly Father,
To meet each flying hour,
That as they go they may not show
My heart a poison flower!
So, when death brings its shadows,
The hours that linger last
Shall bear my hopes on angels’ wings,
Unfettered by the past.


Make Haste, O Man! To Live

Poet: Horatius Bonar

Make haste, O man! to live,
For thou so soon must die;
Time hurries past thee like the breeze;
How swift its moments fly.
Make haste, O man! to live.

Make haste, O man! to do
Whatever must be done,
Thou hast no time to lose in sloth,
Thy day will soon be gone.
Make haste, O man! to live.

To breathe, and wake, and sleep,
To smile, to sigh, to grieve,
To move in idleness through earth,
This, this is not to live.
Make haste, O man! to live.

The useful, not the great;
The thing that never dies,
The silent toil that is not lost,
Set these before thine eyes.
Make haste, O man! to live.

Make haste, O man! to live.
Thy time is almost o’er;
Oh! sleep not, dream not, but arise,
The Judge is at the door.
Make haste, O man! to live.


Thievish Time

Poet: Charles Mackay

Thou shalt not rob me, thievish Time,
Of all my blessings or my joy;
I have some jewels in my heart
Which thou art powerless to destroy.

Thou mayest denude mine arm of strength,
And leave my temples seamed and bare;
Deprive mine eyes of passion’s light,
And scatter silver o’er my hair.

But never, while a book remains,
And breathes a woman or a child,
Shalt thou deprive me whilst I live
Of feelings fresh and undefiled.

No, never while the earth is fair,
And Reason keeps its dial bright,
Whate’er thy robberies, O Time,
Shall I be bankrupt of delight.

Whate’er thy victories o’er my frame,
Thou canst not cheat me of this truth:
That, though the limbs may faint and fail,
The spirit can renew its youth.

So, thievish Time, I fear thee not;
Thou’rt powerless on this heart of mine;
My precious jewels are my own,
‘Tis but the settings that are thine.


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