And some,
the pleasant few -
the rare oul few,
will speak of all those times
we roared and sought to print upon
those times our points of view.

And bring to those remembered times
beauty unforeseen
a screen, shimmering black and white,
a time when nights held -
more in them.

When, girded in delight,
those arching nights,
held all - or nothing.

And some, already spent
saw, as we went,
dawns of silence.

But I
see
in these days
these pleasant days a
sense
of coming on,

a coming on...
a coming on.

James Mills

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-coming-on/