Classic Poem

Loss of Strength

When I was young, I was as hot as wrath,
Swift, like the wind, and thoughtless. My hair fell
In coal-black curls upon my brawny neck,
And sunshine filled my eyes. My voice was clear;
But stern as storms are, when they scare the sea!
Now— now —look on me! Couldst thou think despair
Could so deform, and with remorseless showers
Wash all my strength away? I, who could once
Strike dead the hydra,—split the oak,—now cannot
Outwrestle the summer urchin in his play!English