Martin Robertson

Now and Then

In the Audience

Still young that unknown face; yet not quite young:

working in time tides of experience

alone could grave those channels, from those strong

contours erode the softness.  Beautiful

but not unravaged.  


Lights fade.  Darkness blots all,

the ravage and the face.  Faintly wells

a pale returning light whose kindness veils

jut and furrow, restoring innocence,

restoring youth.  


Innocence and youth,

which ours seemed painful or hardly to exist,

move us in others.  Has time brought up a mist

or blown the cloud-cap from a point of truth?