What? Seest thou not how that the yeare as representing playne
The age of man, departes itself in quarters fowre? First bayne
And tender in the spring it is, even like a sucking babe.
...Then followeth Harvest when the heate of youth growes sumwhat cold,
Rype, meeld, disposed meane betwixt a yoongman and an old,
And sumwhat sprent with grayish heare. Then ugly winter last
Like age steales on with trembling steppes, all bald, or overcast
With shirle thinne heare as whyght as snowe. Our bodies also ay
Doo alter still from tyme to tyme, and never stand at stay.
Wee shall not bee the same wee were today or yisterday.- Ovid
Winter is first. This is calendar view
not the popular petty grandiosity of life as year.
Sulk hard; see life Spring downward. The Gregorian
or astronomical fact is an unpolished scientistic compartment.
No one will have you heed it.
But childhood is a winter.
A moral desert, intellectual negligibility,
contagious illiberty, ruin of stores.
Our minds do alter and fly once thawed.
And no we will not be as we were! thank god.