 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
GROWING OLD.
Old,—we are growing old:
Going on through a beautiful road,
Finding earth a more blessed abode;
Nobler work by our hands to be wrought,
Freer paths for our hope and our thought:
Because of the beauty the years unfold,
We are cheerfully growing old!
Going on through a beautiful road,
Finding earth a more blessed abode;
Nobler work by our hands to be wrought,
Freer paths for our hope and our thought:
Because of the beauty the years unfold,
We are cheerfully growing old!
Old,—we are growing old:
Going up where the sunshine is clear;
Watching grander horizons appear
Out of clouds that enveloped our youth;
Standing firm on the mountains of truth:
Because of the glory the years unfold,
We are joyfully growing old.
Going up where the sunshine is clear;
Watching grander horizons appear
Out of clouds that enveloped our youth;
Standing firm on the mountains of truth:
Because of the glory the years unfold,
We are joyfully growing old.
Old,—we are growing old:
Going in to the gardens of rest
That glow through the gold of the West,
Where the rose and the amaranth blend,
And each path is the way to a friend:
Because of the peace that the years unfold,
We are thankfully growing old.
Going in to the gardens of rest
That glow through the gold of the West,
Where the rose and the amaranth blend,
And each path is the way to a friend:
Because of the peace that the years unfold,
We are thankfully growing old.
Old,—are we growing old?
Life blooms as we travel on
Up the hills, into fresh, lovely dawn:
We are children, who do but begin
The sweetness of living to win:
Because heaven is in us, to bud and unfold,
We are younger, for growing old!
Life blooms as we travel on
Up the hills, into fresh, lovely dawn:
We are children, who do but begin
The sweetness of living to win:
Because heaven is in us, to bud and unfold,
We are younger, for growing old!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |