yester years, were like pleated mist,
Despairing… look at that lowly time, when even the lying looks of a youth
Like nature, now sore-foot, and the leaves are yellow,
Sadness wakes my heavy eyes to her dying earth. Happier, were those subtle days
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This one is going to take me through several several readings before I get a grip on it. Thank you for posting it.
" We are drunk already" ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.