Old Age Poem by Oliver .........

I caught sight of my Will
There on that height,
Imagining how once again
The strangness is lost out
Like missing memory.
The past is charging on like snow;
Perhaps I can only say less
Than what the heart has found
There in the depth which 'd grow.

The speed here is stricken progress,
Thwarted blossom in night;
But my heart worn out,
Wore that dream to follow
The summit, its suicidal point
A rock, a fulcrum turning to sun.

Trace the blonde soil,
Face the old age, here
Twice born secrets hide;
No one breeds contempt,
No one plays dlice to air.

The Will is final which repeats
In the soul beneath the flesh!
Who'd forgive a tresspasser
Grim with old age and palpitation,
But in affirmation of hope
Thats twining the heart
When sun's setting and snow
Is rapidly eating away the feet?