 | Orellana and Other Poems |  |
236
OLD AGE—THE WRESTLER.
Seems but as yesterday that I was young,Inhaled the fever of the war of life,
Made eager preparations for the strife,
And with the joy of a strong gymnast flung
My soul into the contest: swayed and swung
This way and that I reeled; yet joys were rife,—
Home, and the smile of friends, the love of wife,
And Hopes that flew above my head and sung.
But, as I wrestled, woe, alas! my pride
Of youthful strength received a fall from One
Who came upon me with a hasty stride
And threw me heavily: broken, undone,
I rose and to a corner limped aside,
And lo, far down the west had sunk my sun!
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