In poems i find no solace as in the olden days
for these strange ills what solace lies in the olden days?

The earth a battlefield of wanton industry
should i apply for solace, as in the olden days?

The wine of wandering, when one is tired and gray
smacks of despair, not solace as in the olden days

Distractions abound, but nowhere any lasting peace,
a whisper of bright solace as in the olden days

Only the touch of your hand and what your gaze implies
can move me still to solace and newly golden days