The speaker talks to Time as if it were a person—an old fool who moves far too slowly. He refuses to accept that Time controls him: his real master is beauty, not the clock. There is a restless, almost cheeky defiance in the way he dismisses Time as a ghost, a mere idea, “an easy rhyme.” Underneath that impatience lies a deep homesickness. He dreams of a future when he will again see clouds over the Severn valley and walk the lanes around Cranham and Maisemore. But for now, Time keeps him stuck in the present, and the poem ends with an exasperated, almost comic shout: “You are SO SLOW!!!” The mood mixes longing and frustration with a stubborn hope, as if refusing to let war or waiting take away the beauty he loves.
Time and the Soldier — Summary
How slow you move, old Time; Walk a bit faster! Old fool, I’m not your slave.... Beauty’s my master! You hold me for a space.... What are you, Time? A ghost, a thing of thought, An easy rhyme. Some day I shall again, For all your scheming, See Severn valley clouds Like banners streaming. And walk in Cranham lanes, By Maisemore go.... But, fool, decrepit Fool, You are SO SLOW!!!