Age Poem by Walter Savage Landor
Age
Death, tho' I see him not, is near
And grudges me my eightieth year.
Now, I would give him all these last
For one that fifty have run past.
Ah! he strikes all things, all alike,
But bargains: those he will not strike.
Now, I would give him all these last For one that fifty have run past. a very good poem. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/14/2026 8:59:04 PM # rel_20260925T122446Z_7d6ee41
There is no bargain at all. Nice write. Short and to the point.