Ay, There’s the Rub

I Dreamed That I Was Old:

I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension   

Fallen from my prime, when company

Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention,   

Before time took my leafy hours away.

My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found   

Itself tart recompense for what was lost

In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground   

Has no apocalypse or pentecost.

I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought,

And cozy women dead that by my side   

Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not   

Remembering how in my youth I cried.

Stanley Kunitz.