Old earthenware and furniture from days
When life was leisurely and time was long ;
A grace that comes when the world’s happenings
Are etched in memory’s frame, when mossy ways
Lead to new excitements, when the song
Is older far than he who blithely sings.
The dust that men in frantic striving raise
Settles to hide the wounds, cover the wrong.
Peace comes when tired ambition folds its wings.
And I, remembering the yeast of youth,
The raw and cruel deeds which now I rue,
Have come at last to recognise the truth
That only age can sanctify the new.
Weekly Times 20.7.62