"D.E.

Shall creeping Time creep up on me

And hoarsely whisper "old man!"

Before I have tasted all the senses may?

For the fruit of woman's softness

And of clean-limbed men,

Sought by my searching eyes and hands,

Shall I, one awesome day,

Feel no sustaining hunger?

Will the mind (body and blood

Having become insensible

To Nature's fierce decree)

Find other fruit?

As luscious, as imperative?

Does age look back with tired envy,

Or with the glad perception

That this symbolic hunger

Has spoken of some eternal Bread?

one

Jim White

18