Perhaps 2118 Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

I am grown old in the years' contempt
And the rise and fall of the kind old sun
In lands late loved and dreams of lost content
Whose moments of ceasing are close to done.

But as I grow old, they are clearer now
The young who lost their youth that we should live -
They come and chat with me and tell me how
They smile at us and laugh as they forgive.

They come with heart-beat kisses for their kin
And boons of comradeship with former foe
Not caring who may lose and who may win
Keen that trust and understanding just grow:

"These tags and talismans we pass to you
Wear them, sweet friends and to our names be true"