After bedtime, full of sleep
An infant sat with pants still on
And though he felt a wetness seep
His sleep could not be woken from

He dreamed about his future day
And what his life was all about
What would come at end of stay
When his candle had burned out

A sleeping old man, incontinent
Died in a dream of youth extant
He met himself on middle rung
And awoke both wet and young