Rivers of childhood converge and flow on 
Oblivious as old age comes and goes, 
Timeless fish enjoy their swift brevity 
In flooded streams or shallow sunlit creeks. 

                Even as we approach our mortal ends, 
                We may remain to go on failing,
                To go on falling in a cold rain 
                 Anxiety and doubt beneath bare trees, 
                So far from that distant nursery of 
                 Paradise which remains forever near
                 At hand in the birth and death of flowers.