My Hairs are hoary, wrinkled is my Face, I lose my Strength, and all my Manly Grace; My eyes grow dim, my Teeth are broke or gone, And the best part of all my life is done; I'm drown'd in Cares, and often sigh and weep; My Spirits fail me, broken is my Sleep; Thoughts of the gaping Grave distract my Head; For in its Paths 'wake or sleep we tread; None can from it, by Art their Feet restrain' Nor back, tho' wide its Gates, can come again. Then since these Ills attend the Life of Man, Let's make their Burden easy as we can. Cares are no Cares, but whilst on them we think, To clear our Minds of such dull Thoughts, let's drink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLOR SERGEANT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON NURSING HOME: THE DOLL by KAREN SWENSON TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848 by MATTHEW ARNOLD MEETING AT NIGHT by ROBERT BROWNING ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY OF PAUL JONES by PHILIP FRENEAU MY FAMILIAR by JOHN GODFREY SAXE |