For An Old Poet

When he is old and past all singing, Grant, kindly Time, that he may hear The rhythm through joyous Nature ringing, Uncaught by any duller ear. Grant that, in memory’s deeps still cherished, Once more may murmur low to him The winds that sung in years long perished, Lit by the suns of days grown dim. Grant that the hours when first he listened To bird-songs manhood may not know, In fields whose dew for lovers glistened, May come back to him ere he go. Grant only this, 0 Time most kindly, That he may hear the song you sung When love was new—and, hearkening blindly, Feign his o'er-wearied spirit young. With sound of rivers singing round him, On waves that long since flowed away, Oh, leave him, Time, where first Love found him, Dreaming Tomorrow in Today!