The Passing of a Stoic

The Passing of a Stoic written by John Drinkwater

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 Now stiff who once was willow,
 Now bent who once was tall,
 He walks along the garden
 At noon and afternoon,
 And while the buds are yellow
 His life is at the fall,
 Yet will he ask no pardon
 Who never asked a boon.

 With death he will not quarrel,
 Nor bid the gods be kind,
 The shadow of disaster
 Has been his place of school,
 And now he makes no moral
 Of echoes in his mind
 That tell of life the master
 With whips for man the fool.

 With eyes upon the gravel
 He does not heed the year,
 Among the lives that waken
 He moves but does not live,
 A bitter way to travel
 He travels without fear,
 But with no blessing taken
 Goes on with none to give.

This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.