Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/48

 Now the frost comes; from prime, though, I watched through to nones, Read love's litanies over—his age was not our age! No more flutes in this world for me now, dear! trombones.

All that youth once denied and made mouths at, age owns. Facts put fangs out and bite us; life stings and grows viperous; And time's fugues are a hubbub of meaningless tones. Once we followed the piper; now why not the piper us? Love, grown grey, plays mere solos; we want antiphones.