ONCE

He sees them pass

As the light is graying,

Each lad and lass

In their beauty gaying

And a voice in his aching heart is saying:

"Once—once even I

Was straight as these,

As clear of eye,

And as apt to please

When I tuned my voice to balladries.

Now my eyes are dim,

Their old fires forsaking,

And each wasted limb

As a branch is shaking,

And my grief-bowed heart will soon be breaking.

—Ah, if One comes not

Beckoning nigh

To that land where hums not

One small fly,

These Strong and Fair shall be as I."

Eric N. Batterham