I Dreamed That I Was Old

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I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension 
Fallen from my prime, when company
Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention, 
Before time took my leafy hours away.

My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found 
Itself tart recompense for what was lost
In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground 
Has no apocalypse or pentecost.

I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought,
And cozy women dead that by my side 
Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not 
Remembering how in my youth I cried.

© Stanley Kunitz