MID-LIFE CRISIS ?

I used to think that rabble-rousing,
As Jefferson once said, was good;
But now I’m old and feel like drowsing.
I’ve done as much as any could.
So sit here like a fuddy-duddy
At home in this my tiny study
And hope that I won’t be eschewed
Because I’ve lost my aptitude
For making trouble, disinterring-
And making such an awful fuss
That I had always thought a plus-
The wickedness life was conferring
On everybody else you see
To find at last it’s only me.