I met a very ancient man
with gray and revered head.
"It is growing dark," I said to him,
And this is what he said.
"Drifting shadows crept over the
World as suppliant Day knelt at the
threshold of Night, pleading for the
black of darkness."
I looked up at him in mild surprise,
He wept "Ah, well-a-day!
I once wrote titles for the films,
And now I talk this way!