CLVI: Of missing years and missing memories
Who is that little one who shares my name?
Who lived some years ago, and shared my house?
How is it that his pride and folly came,
when, in his eyes is fear—alike a mouse?
Who is that stripling youth who’s in my chair?
Who mused upon it many years ago?
What e’er became of all the visions there
he had? Where did his plans and passions go?
Who is that enterprising man who drives
in my old car—the one that was just mine?
Is it yet true that his ambition thrives?
Or was this when he started my decline?
There are so many years that I’ve forgot.
There’s ghosts that I have known, and those I’ve not.