His youthful hose well filled, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks,
And his big, manly voice, turning again to childish treble,
Pipes and whistles in his sounds.
Last scene of all that ends this strange eventful history
is second childishness and mere oblivion, sans eyes,
sans teeth, sans taste, sans everything.
* * *
Gloomy Reflections
Did you ever stop to think as the hearse rolls by,