|3.||Death by Surgeon||2/19/2016|
|5.||Enjoy the Present||2/19/2016|
|7.||Life Is a Perilous Voyage||2/19/2016|
|8.||Life is a Theatre||2/19/2016|
|10.||Measuring the Universe||2/19/2016|
|12.||No More Epigrams||2/19/2016|
|13.||On an Inanimate Actress||2/19/2016|
|14.||A Sad Life||2/19/2016|
|16.||I Prefer the Golden Mean||2/19/2016|
|18.||Contentment in Old Age||6/16/2015|
Contentment in Old Age
The women mock me for being old,
Bidding me look at the wreck of my years in the mirror.
But I, as I approach the end of my life,
Care not whether I have white hair or black,
And with sweet-scented ointments
And crowns of lovely flowers and wine
I make heavy care to cease.
Breathing the thin breath through our nostrils, we
Live, and a little space the sunlight see-
Even all that live- each being an instrument
To which the generous air its life has lent.
If with the hand one quench our draught of breath,
He sends the stark soul shuddering down to death.
We that are nothing on our pride are fed,
Seeing, but for a little air, we are as dead.