Ode to AgeAge, you spouse of inexorable change,
reminder of a birth and certain death,
whose hour in time, uncertain though it be
will mark withdrawal of your borrowed breath.
But not before you, Age, have played the part,
of multifarious characters on earth:
from wail of infant to the senseless words
of those whose faculties outlive their worth.
And yet with simple predilection, Age,
you grace some elderly with art sublime
and gift them with that mellow fruit of years
the wisdom which is born of well- tried time.
Oh Age, you spouse of time’s unceasing change
all change dies with you at the hour of death.
That changeless moment fixes life’s confine
when you yield up to time your borrowed breath.