Shakespeare Out of Doors

To sit reading ancient poetry

On my leaf-pattered porch,

The wind glad swirling in the trees

Who welcome me with waves and dancing

(What better than to enjoy the trees’ goodwill),

I can tell to no one.

In solitude I have great company:

The bard brings tears and laughter.

My voice speaks his words;

His word my heart recites.

If this is how my fading life declines

I will let it slide,

Look old age full in the eyes

And find its pearl delights.