Vain Imaginings

We have grown old
Time will not wait
For us, who caught
Its drift too late,
Who spent like fools
And lent like Kings
Purblind with vain imaginings.

For though each cup
Would spill the brim
At every sup
Of every whim,
What fool could see
His own intent –
Each shallow draft the level spent.

And now, like beggars
Caught in need,
We hoard the dregs
Of every creed
And only taste
The waste of Kings
Purblind with vain imaginings.