But for the Tears.
103
‘The World were good to die in,’ said the aged,
‘When lost years come to haunt you with their groans.
When dead dreams won’t be stilled,
And hopes long unfulfilled
Beat on your bleeding heart nor heed its moans,
With knowledge of a soul’s right gained and lost,
Less love endears
Some little your poor flesh, O welcome, death, to age.
Save for those tears.’
