And at the Golden Mist.
They swore I was a shipwrecked man,
Tossed on the dreary main;
And pitied me, because they thought
My woes had crazed my brain.
And soon a wondrous thing I saw;
I now was old and gray,
A man of threescore years and ten,—
A weak man in decay!
And yesterday, and I was young!