<h2> Veteran Sirens </h2>
<p>The ghost of Ninon would be sorry now<br/>
To laugh at them, were she to see them here,<br/>
So brave and so alert for learning how<br/>
To fence with reason for another year.<br/>
<br/>
Age offers a far comelier diadem<br/>
Than theirs; but anguish has no eye for grace,<br/>
When time's malicious mercy cautions them<br/>
To think a while of number and of space.<br/>
<br/>
The burning hope, the worn expectancy,<br/>
The martyred humor, and the maimed allure,<br/>
Cry out for time to end his levity,<br/>
And age to soften its investiture;<br/>
<br/>
But they, though others fade and are still fair,<br/>
Defy their fairness and are unsubdued;<br/>
Although they suffer, they may not forswear<br/>
The patient ardor of the unpursued.<br/>
<br/>
Poor flesh, to fight the calendar so long;<br/>
Poor vanity, so quaint and yet so brave;<br/>
Poor folly, so deceived and yet so strong,<br/>
So far from Ninon and so near the grave.<br/></p>
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