Well it is, fine to see, elegant and peeled
To fineness, a shell, this beauty. A sea-swell
Rises, spasm, in my spirit. Nothing can shield
Against this shining. Well it is, fine to see -
But across years. Something there is of despair
Nothing of hope. A wound never to be healed
Oozes quietly over the table. Beware
The jewel that mocks age. Yet- an affinity
Is squeezed out of the night, out of the air
Despite the knelling of time’s bell, over the debris
Of too much life gone winging. So I can yield
To the blindness of breasts, the smell and spell
Of hair undone and singing, even be healed
By eyes that tell that though my soul lies all revealed,
There is nothing to repel, that all is well
Fine to see, no need as yet for the long farewell.
Richard Blanch
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/age-contemplates-youth/
