Yes, you must see in me, as in those naked
Branches, this my year approach an end,
Full foliage of summer now unmáked,
Shriveled and dry beyond all hope to mend.
On these old near-blind eyes a darkening veil
As on the forest masking dusk descends,
As does the shadow rising up the dale,
Leave only dark, and what the dark portends.
When in my sleep you see my racing paws,
Chasing in dreams the squirrels that first inspired,
But now would hang unsavored from my jaws
If caught, you’ll know i’ve near retired.
So you must treasure each near final day
Of him who soon enough will go his way.
