Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Decrepitude

Here, at a quarter century, 
Does one shed youth and mantle age: 
Banish the fool, become the sage;
And soldier on in certainty?

Have I not lived and loved and lost? 
Are not the poems in my head 
So deep that they are interréd? 
Have I not felt the flame and frost?

And victory I also know. 
Did I not live to see my name
Merit some modicum of fame
Before my coil shuffled so?

Of friendship did I play some part
Though always much to my surprise. 
My comrades met me in the eyes
And pierced together this weak heart.

So should a score and five years make
The feeling that I've lived an Age;
And as the birds sing i' th' cage
To whistle for a new life's sake?

The years have not me stricken dumb, 
Though, Fate does not display her hand.
I am compelled for love to stand, 
And see another sunrise come.

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