My Grand Climacteric Poem by Francis Noel Clarke Mundy

As one, who journeys over unknown lands,
Ere yet the sun withdraws his western ray,
Stops on some mountain's brow, whose site commands
The shifting scenes and labyrinths of the way;

With fond reverted look his thoughts retrace,
Where flowers their sweets, and wild-birds gave their song,
And dwell, long dwell! on many a favourite space,
Where prodigal of time, he loiter'd long;

Lovers and friends in bright perspective rise,
Companions of his morn, on yon blue hill;
Down that blank plain he drops a look, and sighs,
Whence seem their parting words to reach him still;

Here is pain'd eyes unkindly districts mark,
Where faint heats smote him, or fierce storms o'ertook
There strain o'er deep'ning woods at noonday dark,
Where his false steps their destin'd course forsook;

Pond'ring the change and chances of the day,
As warning eve prepares her veil to close,
Serious, he now proceeds with short survey,
Expecting night's shut hour, and hoping calm repose;

So I look back on more than sixty years,
In life's sequester'd walks obscurely spent,
Where, though its trophied head no column rears,
Inscrib'd with mighty deed, or proud event;

Yet, on some few small eminences, glow
The heart's rejoicing lights of self-applause;
Some generous claims surmount the gloom below,
And shame and sharp regrets a moment pause;

Yet these prevail — ah! might my wish prevail,
That Time would turn my near exhausted glass;
Then not a grain should of its harvest fail: —
Seeds are but sands when unimproved they pass.

Vain wish! vain promise! what dost thou presume,
O weak Humanity? thyself but dust!
Since from the cradle, hourly, to the tomb,
Toil, trifle, err, and grieve, frail thing! thou must.

But pleasures, passions lose their passions dangerous force;
And the world's business shrinks as age descends:
O spare, Adversity! my evening course;
My little part is play'd, my small importance ends.