THE distinguished American poet Maya Angelou contributes the spirited title for the 2013 anthology, Don't Bring Me No Rocking Chair:

Poems on Ageing, edited by John Halliday with foreword by Joan Bakewell (Bloodaxe Books, £9.95). The spelling is transatlantic.

ON AGING

When you see me sitting quietly,

Like a sack left on the shelf,

Don't think I need your chattering.

I'm listening to myself.

Hold! Stop! Don't pity me!

Hold! Stop your sympathy!

Understanding if you got it,

Otherwise I'll do without it!

When my bones are stiff and

aching,

And my feet won't climb the stair,

I will only ask one favor:

Don't bring me no rocking chair.

When you see me walking, stumbling,

Don't study and get it wrong.

'Cause tired don't mean lazy

And every goodbye aint gone.

I'm the same person I was

back then,

A little less hair, a little less chin,

A lot less lungs and much less

wind.

But ain't I lucky I can still breathe in?