There's a time for childhood
under motherly care,
the time for a mood
of endeavor and dare.

There's a time for youth
with glamour and joy,
the time that went smooth
like a real Mc Coy.

There's a time for maturity,
rich and streaming,
the time of security,
endless seaming.

There's a time to get old,
when the living gets tense,
the time we are told
there's a limit to sense.

There's a time for us all
to reason and ponder.
Each spring, summer, fall
and winter makes me wonder.