(For C.)

When you are old and beautiful,
And things most difficult are done
There will be few who can recall
Your face that I see ravaged now
By youth and its oppressive work

Your look will hold their wondering looks
Grave as Cordelia's at the last
Neither with rancor at the past
Nor to upbraid the coming time
For you will be at peace with time

But now, a daily warfare takes
Its toll of tenderness in you
And you must live like captains who
Wait out the hour before the charge --
Fearful, and yet impatient too

Yet someday this will have an end,
All choices made or choice resigned
And in your face the literal eye
Trace little of your history
Not ever piece the tale entire
Of villages that had to burn
and playgrounds of the will destroyed
Before you could be safe from time
and gather in your brow and air
the stillness of antiquity