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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