 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
AN AGED GREEK.
I laugh whene'er I hear them say
‘At last his hair is white’—
Fools! 'Tis the star of Love all day
That crowns me with its light!
‘At last his hair is white’—
Fools! 'Tis the star of Love all day
That crowns me with its light!
She, she whose evening revelry
Cheers visibly the skies,
Looks down from heaven and kisses me
With her far-touching eyes.
Cheers visibly the skies,
Looks down from heaven and kisses me
With her far-touching eyes.
56
My heart, where'er in youth I strayed,
Her silver shafts could thrill:
And now this old, unbending head
She loves and honours still.
Her silver shafts could thrill:
And now this old, unbending head
She loves and honours still.
With these old locks each breath of air
Is proudly pleased to play:—
Then how, O wanton mockers, dare
Ye tell me I am grey?
Is proudly pleased to play:—
Then how, O wanton mockers, dare
Ye tell me I am grey?
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |