Classic Poem

Your later poems are not so cocksure-ready
To paint the quiet sunset with a roar
Of clanging words; to test or weigh the steady
Throb of the Universe—your thought before.
Gone is that time when you discovered daily
The big, still things that have been known for years,
Or analyzed the world's shortcomings gaily—
Chucked Time beneath his chin and pinched his ears.

Today you spend no hours naively finding
The friendly trees—that others long have known;
The lives of birds and flowers you're not winding
Into approving rhymes—for you have grow.…
In the brief years your self-esteem has dwindled;
Treading the paths that older men have trod,
Your light burns true; your fires are better kindled
Since you have done with patronizing God!