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. .