28.10.2007, 15:23
ON HEARING MYSELF FOR THE FIRST TIME CALLED
AN OLD MAN JET. 50.
AGES have rolled within my breast, though yet
Not nigh the bourn to fleeting man assigned:
Yes : old alas how spent the struggling mind
Which at the noon of life is fain to set !
My dawn and evening have so closely met
That men the shades of night begin to find
Darkening my brow ; and heedless, not unkind,
Let the sad warning drop, without regret.
Gone Youth ! had I thus missed thee, nor a hope
Were left of thy return beyond the tomb,
I could curse life : But glorious is the scope
Of an immortal soul. Oh Death, thy gloom
Short, and already tinged with coming light,
Is to the Christian but a Summer's night.
AN OLD MAN JET. 50.
AGES have rolled within my breast, though yet
Not nigh the bourn to fleeting man assigned:
Yes : old alas how spent the struggling mind
Which at the noon of life is fain to set !
My dawn and evening have so closely met
That men the shades of night begin to find
Darkening my brow ; and heedless, not unkind,
Let the sad warning drop, without regret.
Gone Youth ! had I thus missed thee, nor a hope
Were left of thy return beyond the tomb,
I could curse life : But glorious is the scope
Of an immortal soul. Oh Death, thy gloom
Short, and already tinged with coming light,
Is to the Christian but a Summer's night.