Time, The Goose

Behold, I can jest with Time-
The goose which I pluck, each day a feather,
Which I lightly blow upon eternity-
Hoping it may tickle a star!
But alas, alas! Many's the feather
That has felt the hoof of a swine;
Yet I go on plucking and blowing.
Aye, and I ne'er shall stop till the bird be bare.
Egad, Time the goose, is mine to pluck!