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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Middle Time is now upon me, And the tune to which I dance is somewhat thin; A ghost remembrance of that cacaphonous din To which my steps were measured in my youth. I know there lies now less before Than all those days that lay within The sepulchure of careless memory passed, And I apprehend the sometime bitter truth That evil days approach my door When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave And I be forced to gaze aghast At sights my eyes would fain not see, When I to faithful hope must cleave. And yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast? That Jester, Youth, has left the table Leaving us the better able To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow, Matters weighty and sublime Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable Than such issues as delight the Fool, And content the simpleminded sow - Let us worthily pass the time To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined, Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school - Establish what we value most and least, Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined. O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light As was it's wont to be in bygone days, Nor pine for carefree, childish ways - They had their time, and sweet they were, But now thou hast a surer, measured step And the nobler thought is the one which stays, And Youth for all its joyful folly Is not a state forever to prefer To a mind and manner better kept From fancies and seductions strange; Who but a Fool would be forever jolly And deny his Midlife's further sight, It's deeper view, it's wider range?
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