On Hamilton Mountain

on M Klavins's birthday

On Hamilton Mountain, we look at the city
Stretched broadly below us, with cool resignation,
Recalling our hopes for intense concentration
(A dream more than worthy of some Walter Mitty),
Replaced by more practical feelings, like pity
And purpose; our lives, meant to join contemplation
To action, have joined only schemes to sensation,
Which causes our friends to remark something witty.

We’ve aged, like great wines, and our lives have persisted
To this year that passes too slowly, too quickly,
Too neatly, too messily, often too sickly,
But here we all are, resolute and two-fisted,
Eyes clear, where at one time they might have been misted.
The day breaks, the answers to fancies come thickly.