QUARREL IN OLD AGE
 
 WHERE had her sweetness gone?
 What fanatics invent
 In this blind bitter town,
 Fantasy or incident
 Not worth thinking of,
 put her in a rage.
 I had forgiven enough
 That had forgiven old age.
 All lives that has lived;
 So much is certain;
 Old sages were not deceived:
 Somewhere beyond the curtain
 Of distorting days
 Lives that lonely thing
 That shone before these eyes
 Targeted, trod like Spring.