My autumn approaches; with summer's end,
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the dying embers of my aging dotage,
now sovereign, dominate and portend
the fading of Youth with my greying image.
How now, dear Lord, do I live, thrive, prevail,
succeed, and flourish in life's waning hours?
When fresh and young as the dew, all is well;
without a care in the world, the flowers
of our adolescence seem for ever!
But, with time, comes old age and senescence;
loss of strength and health and hale, to never
return but through rebirth and renascence.
So, waste not on me any tears of pity;
for my hope lies now in God's Indemnity.