Classic Poem

I once could weep when women wept; their tears
Whether of joy or pain, or love for me,
Moved all the meekness of my soul; for tears,
And terrene guiles had spared me: I was free

And pure of holiest thought, yet young in years.
My lips breathed freshness and its sympathy.
The coreless skeleton of Time now leers
Upon the threshold of my soul. I see

Callous, indifferent, scenes of blood and crime,
The poor despair, the wicked upward climb;
My trusts in love and youth I long have spurned,
My sinning life-tides slowly Deathward creep,
But oh! how has my skeptic spirit yearned
To shed one simple tear when women weep!