I' the spring at outset? Where 's my second chance?
Ay, but the babe ... I had forgot my son,
My heir! Now for a burst of gratitude!
There 's some appropriate service to intone,
Some gaudeamus and thanksgiving-psalm!
Old, I renew my youth in him, and poor
Possess a treasure,—is not that the phrase?
Only I must wait patient twenty years—
Nourishing all the while, as father ought,
The excrescence with my daily blood of life.