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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413157" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Late contemplation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I keep asking myself the question, but myself has no answer for me<br>I am either overwhelmed with happiness or being gilded with gloom<br>And I bounce between peaks and depths of moods with dreadful time at my trail looms<br>Age has made me what I am not now<br>And every wrinkle tells me where in my youth the plow<br>Of time has furrowed, when an ice shall flow <br>Through every vein of mine and all my head wear snow<br>I wish, not even that for I am bald even before my time<br>I will be deprived of this glorious aging, the contend with death<br>will bare no signs of glory<br>When death displays his color of coldness in my cheek<br>And I, myself in past own picture seek<br>Not finding what I am, but what I was<br>In terrible doubt and confusion which to bless, this or my glass<br>Yet though my outer has altered, I remain the same<br>The same spirit and the same soul trapped in a frail, failing frame<br>And the sight of first complexion in maiden; here as wild as it can be seen<br>As blood rush on cheek and chin<br>The first thrill and rapture of youth in high school yard, such a pleasure to the eye<br>The ruddy lips of giggling maids and hair of youthful glossy dye <br>The picture of me in a middle of wide meadows in early spring<br>Where wild tulips called their reign upon hills in expending rings <br>The cheery stood proud with balmy bloom upon the boughs<br>And the grass wrapped with smell of fresh horse hoofs<br>A beautiful maid passed in the meadows<br>And her hair waved in whirling gales and dappling shadows<br>I was a free child then, enfranchised and at large<br>The immense struck of pleasures that her sight<br>On me bestowed, her forms of beauty often stayed with me<br>Passing even into my purer mind<br>With tranquil restoration these feeling<br>Of unremembered obscure joys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">    Copy rights 2010<br>    All rights reserved</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isaac+Ziv">Isaac Ziv</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413157" data-title="Late contemplation de Isaac Ziv" data-description="I keep asking myself the question, but myself has no answer for me
I am either overwhelmed with happiness or being gilded with gloom
And I bounce between peaks and depths of moods with dreadful time at my trail looms
Age has made me what I am not ..."></div>
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