I grow old … I grow old …	 I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.	Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?	I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.	I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.	I do not think that they will sing to me.	 I have seen them riding seaward on the waves	Combing the white hair of the waves blown back	When the wind blows the water white and black.	We have lingered in the chambers of the sea	By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown	 Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
loneliness, mermaid, regret