Sonnet VII - Robert Louis Stevenson

Lyrics

The strong man's hand, the snow-cool head of age The certain-footed sympathies of youth - These, and that lofty passion after truth Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sage Or the great men of former years, he needs That not unworthily would dare to sing (Hard task!) black care's inevitable ring Settling with years upon the heart that feeds Incessantly on glory. Year by year The narrowing toil grows closer round his feet; With disenchanting touch rude-handed time The unlovely web discloses, and strangе fear Leads him at last to eld's inclеment seat The bitter north of life - a frozen clime