Poetry Archives

I asked a silver sage
          With race nigh run:
‘Tell me in old of age
          Your wisdom won?’
Said he: ‘From fret and strife
          And vain vexation,
The all I’ve learned from life
          Is—Resignation.’

I asked a Bard who thrummed
          A harp clay-cold:
‘How is your story summed
          Now you are old?’
Though golden voice was his,
          And fame had he,
He sighed: ‘The finish is
         —Futility.’

I’m old; I have no wealth
          Toil to reward;
Yet for the boon of health
          I thank the Lord.
While Beauty I can see,
          To live is good;
And so life’s crown to me
          Is—Gratitude