Davy Poem on Growing Old

Davy was now forty, and like every man of science and every poet, he hoped against hope that original work and ‘powers of inspiration’ still lay ahead in his maturity. His description of these longings was nakedly Romantic, and surely recalled his moonlit walks along the banks of the Avon some twenty years before. Though many chequered years have passed away Since first the sense of Beauty thrilled my nerves, Yet still my heart is sensible to Thee, As when it first received the flood of ...