Rarely, Rarely Comest Thou Poem by Richard St. Clair

Today I choose to live in ecstasy,
A halcyon autumn breeze a secret salve,
But yet, resurgent pain which now I have
Is back, in mind and body, flailing me.
Yes, I can scream in agony, but why?
Is not affliction everybody's curse
That when their age creeps on becoming worse
Until the very day they have to die?
So now I live for pleasure, though it's fleeting,
There is no comfort quite like this, I think;
So rather than in desperation sink,
I'll wait to face life's worst, a fateful meeting!
Rarely comes the spirit of delight,
As Shelley truthfully was moved to write.