Disposed at ease through aeons, or perhaps
Send on their proper sandal-size ahead
To heaven’s commissary. Thus Graybeards.
And yet, Youth also misconstrues its sort,
Makes it a vale deep-shadowed, where within
Ghosts glide ’neath cloistering cypress trees and sup
Of honey cakes in tombs wisteria-hung:
Cloaked lovers stroll through hazel groves and come
To Lethe’s bank ... or in another mood,
Visioning death as ugly, conjures up