Prescience

Old women think of old roofs, and the things That made these comely in the ancient sun ; Old men think of their wars, their wayfarings done. Both of first love; of fair, dispersed springs. Old women and old men — God rest them all! — To hear the dark, slow waters lap about; To see their last of candle spluttering out; — It is too poor an ending to befall. But ours this golden earth from sky to sky ; And all my thoughts of you, and yours of me; About us memorable April set. — Sudden I feel the fleet years tumbling by; Age stares at me behind each rosy tree! — Oh, snatch me to your heart ! I would forget.