Nearly a Sonnet
When soon this life's course is nearly run,
And nightly retreating into deep thought:-
Faded, half-remembered memories fraught
With half-made pledges all gone undone.
Yonder sits Hermes slumped in his chair;
Hands clasped, bearded chin on his chest.
In troubling dreams he knows no rest...
Nor in quiet contemplation or in prayer.
He has cast aside all God like passions;
Cap hung on a peg, winged sandals slipped;
Dumbed tongue that once had fashioned
Wondrous words hidden behind pursed lips.
Masculine limbs, in youth, so keen to leap!
Now stretched out in exhausted sleep.
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