Ending Age Poem by Gladden Scribbles

from the depth of my heart,
when my receding soul depart
of which i shall be hurried on
and where my fame shall be called upon
and there, virtually you may not me view
for in realm i shall be when my days are few
and you, if cursory divine wished
that you may not in age as planned
perhaps, we shall meet and once again be merry
and all our earthly woes shall flee like a ferry
this is my age, this is my end;
but let your stage takes a mend.