 | Poems |  |
AN OLD MAN'S SONG.
Our heads are grey, but not our hearts,
Though, friend, we two have seen
The woods of threescore winters
Put on the summer's green.
Though, year by year, by age we've watched
Form after form unstrung;
And wrinkles gather, day by day,
On foreheads once so young;
Yet though from face and form, old friend,
All grace and strength depart,
Thank Heaven! in laugh we yet are boys,
We still are young in heart!
Though, friend, we two have seen
The woods of threescore winters
Put on the summer's green.
Though, year by year, by age we've watched
Form after form unstrung;
And wrinkles gather, day by day,
On foreheads once so young;
Yet though from face and form, old friend,
All grace and strength depart,
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We still are young in heart!
The bounding step of youth, 'tis true,
Our old tread knows no more;
And bowed and tottering are our forms,
Like very pines of yore;
And age the old strength's wasted long,
That lived in every limb;
And cooled the pulse along our veins,
And made our old eyes dim;
But friends, the lapse of years no chill
A cross our mirth has flung;
Thank Heaven! in laugh we yet are boys,
In heart we still are young.
Our old tread knows no more;
And bowed and tottering are our forms,
Like very pines of yore;
And age the old strength's wasted long,
That lived in every limb;
And cooled the pulse along our veins,
And made our old eyes dim;
But friends, the lapse of years no chill
A cross our mirth has flung;
Thank Heaven! in laugh we yet are boys,
In heart we still are young.
| Poems | |