Fickle as all pssions are

We must descend there-
From to live.  Here in the
Valley  of the  Shadow
We pass our uncertain days
Regaling our selves with the
Remembrance of derring do
Of forrner times but for all our
Boasting would not returm
Except there were an Everest
Of enduring passion that could
Survive.  Such is the quest of old
Age to know Love that  alters not
Nor need we ever depart from