Here is the page I have written 

In the fifty long years since I’ve seen you

Will this excuse my absence

These works and deeds I’ve left behind

This life I’ve lived concealed

From your judgement and your eyes?


The book that now you freely open 

Reveals the petty and the proud

The borders of my striving

In solitude and crowd.

Here I stand before you

This my image now

Not young as you had known me 

For life has used and thrown me

But still my spirit reaches out 

You see me bent not bowed.