i grow old i grow old,
i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled

I should have been a pair of ragged claws 
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.


I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, 


And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,


In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. 


And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"