Paracrostic

A poem in which the initial letters of each line, read down the page, reproduce the first line

I am now growing old

And long in the tooth

More frightened than bold,

No match for a youth.

Once womenfolk eyed me

Wherever I went,

Gathered beside me

Romantically bent!

Oh, how the years pall

When they no longer glance –

I fancy them all

Now I haven’t a chance!

Grown older I tire,

Outmoded I rage.

Lord, why must you fire

Desire with age?