Look you not at this figure on the couch,
Thinking there’s no reach left to his mind.
Those who see not the marks of age still crouch
Round him amazed at knowledge refined.
If you go back to those long glory years,
Learning we sang was better than gold.
No one then challenged that ditty with snares
‘Twas the song that braced our ancient mould.
He came from that cast, and soared to greatness,











