I am but a man, take that for all in all,
Though not as green and young as a child of May
Scarlet threads yet still outrun the grey;
These slow steps of age are mine and I call
My name, honour, and reputation all.
I hold them fast against each passing day
Knowing full well that there are other ways
To win favour and seek out grace before I fall.
Age needs not treachery to overcome sweet youth
But deceit is an ally not to be abhorred;
Dreams of golden days have a gentler warmth
Than the battle-heat of impetuous youth.
I often leave the field to younger sons,
Seeking in peace the quiet strength of truth.