A C. S. Lewis Poem

I have long been a fan of C. S. Lewis. I read his fiction, his fantasies, his essays, his theological works, his talks, and others his prose writings.  But I had read little of his poetry. 

Then I recently stumbled across this poem by C. S. Lewis. As I, an oldster, am increasingly dealing with various aches and pains, it spoke to me! 

As One Oldster to Another

Well, yes the old bones ache. There were easier 
Beds thirty years back. Sleep, then importunate, 
Now with reserve doles out her favours;
Food disagrees; there are droughts in houses. 

Headlong, the down night train rushes on with us,
Screams through the stations…how many more? Is it
Time soon to think of taking down one’s 
Case from the rack? Are we nearly there now?

Yet neither loss of friends, nor an emptying 
Future, nor England tamed and the ruin of 
Long-builded hopes thus far have taught my 
Obstinate heart a sedate deportment. 

Still beauty calls as once in the mazes of 
Boyhood. The bird-like soul quivers. Into her 
Flash darts of unfulfill’d desire and 
Pierce with a bright, unabated anguish. 

Armed thus with anguish, joy meets us even in
Youth--who forgets? This side of the terminus, 
Then, now, and always, thus, and only
Thus, were the doors of delight set open.