The Cup of Life

One after one the high emotions fade;
  Time's wheeling measure empties and refills
  Year after year; we seek no more the hills
That lured our youth divine and unafraid,
But swarming on some common highway, made
  Beaten and smooth, plod onward with blind feet
  And only where the crowded crossways meet
We halt and question, anxious and dismayed.
Yet can we not escape it; some we know
  Have angered and grown mad, some scornfully laughed;
  Yet surely to each lip--to mine to thin--
Comes with strange scent and pallid poisonous glow
  The cup of Life, that dull Circean draught,
  That taints us all, and turns the half to swine.