“A stationary sense… as, I suppose,

I shall have, till my single body grows

         Inaccurate, tired;

Then I shall start to feel the backward pull

Take over, sickening and masterful –

            Some say, desired.

 

And this must be the prime of life… I blink,

As if at pain; for it is pain, to think

           This pantomime

Of compensating act and counter-act

Defeat and counterfeit, makes up, in fact

            My ablest time. ”

 

Philip Larkin – Maturity