HE SHOWS HOW ALL THINGS WARN OF DEATH

I gazed upon the walls of my old land,
Strong long ago, now moldering away,
Tired by the march of time that, day by day,
Had now eroded all their will to stand.

I strode through fields and saw the sun that made
A drink of every stream the ice untied,
And cows that groaned for woodland not to hide
The light of day from them with shade on shade.

I stepped into my house, and saw the crude,
Despoiled ruins of an ancient room;
My cane gone weak and crooked in the grime.

I felt my sword surrendering to time
And nothing of the many things I viewed
Reminded me anything but doom.