Old

I grow old

I grow old

am stiff

I am cold

Does the sun

Within me set?

Or will it blaze

A little yet?

This little verse catches the wistful spirit of much of DMP's poetry: a mixture of a sense of loss that verges on self-pity with a more resilient note that suggests hope in the future. It was evidently written when DMP was in his 70s and was much taken up with his literary plans.


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