The poem
Although I shelter from the rain Under a broken tree, My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics, Ere Time transfigured me.
Though lads are making pikes again For some conspiracy, And crazy rascals rage their fill At human tyranny, My contemplations are of Time That has transfigured me.
There's not a woman turns her face Upon a broken tree, And yet the beauties that I loved Are in my memory; I spit into the face of Time That has transfigured me.
This poem is the longing for youthful vitality, passion, love and power. The pensioner gets pension at his old age but he lacks passion to utilize it - that money cannot be spent for love , enjoyment and ..........