THE OLD MAN

Unmindful now of life's sharp sting,
Of worldly ways, of wanton waste;
Just give me but a little thing -
A day, an hour,
A leaf, a flower.

Uncaring as the brief flame dies
For teeming millions torn with grief,
Whose pains no longer hurt my eyes;
Remembered years,
Forsaken tears.

Unwanted in the cruel race,
The mesh of fear, the curse of Time;
They all shall soon the earth embrace,
By fate beguiled,
By age enisled.

Unknowing where the purpose waits
In all this hurt, in all this toil;
How can I pass beyond the gates
And leave my life
Without my wife?

It is the sun I cannot lose,
The silken abyss, jewel-bright;
The flowered eyes of rain-soft hues -
Must they, like I,
Despair and die?

Unheedful of the night's cold breath,
Of lurking clouds where darkness furls;
Tomorrow's but a dreamless death -
All weeping gone,
Oblivion.