In the Ages of My Years
By John Herlihy

In the infancy of day’s dawn,
I began to slowly realize who I am;
I enjoyed the sweet innocence of a lamb;
I smiled and cooed in the confines of my pram;
Of the ways of the world, I didn’t give a damn.

In the prime of my youth,
I sprang forth as an overflowing forest creek;
I saw the road before me my destiny to seek;
I began to climb cliffs to the mountain’s peak;
I felt the blush of first kiss on my tender cheek.

In the meridian of my noon,
I have not loved as others have found love;
I have seen beauty in the mystery of the dove;
I have pursued sacred verses fallen from above;
I have witnessed trial and turmoil hand in glove.

In the wake of the afternoon,
I have taken note of the descending hour;
I have observed the initial closing of the flower;
I move toward the gate of an ancient bower;
I now feel the effects of my waning power.

In the dusk of twilight,
I have accepted the arrival of my age;
I begin to turn the final chapter of my page;
I take one step forward into this final stage;
I draw upon the enduring wisdom of a sage.

In the ages of my years,
I have pursued the mystery as I always will;
I have kept the secret that I remember still;
I have subdued the passions of my fickle will;
I have reduced my earthly desires down to nil.