Whatever poet, orator, or sage
May say of it, old age is still old age.
It is the waning, not the crescent moon;
The dusk of evening, not the blaze of noon;
It is not strength, but weakness; not desire,
But its surcease; not the fierce heat of fire,
The burning and consuming element,
But that of ashes and of embers spent,
In which some living sparks we still discern,
Enough to warm, but not enough to burn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882) American poet
Poem (1875), “Morituri Salutamus,” l. 262ff
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Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth - Poem (1875), "Morituri Salutamus," l. 262ff | WIST Quotations
Whatever poet, orator, or sage May say of it, old age is still old age. It is the waning, not the crescent moon; The dusk of evening, not the blaze of noon; It is not strength, but weakness; not desire, But its surcease; not the fierce heat of fire, …WIST Quotations