When I am old and bent with years, And marked by life's great joys and fears, When these soft tresses—ebon now,— Shall lie like snow upon my brow, Will I have heard life's story told In smiles or tears, when I am old? Shall I then look indifferently On all that Time yet hides from me? Or will to-morrow and to-day Still roll like mystic screens away, Revealing shade and sunshine's gold, And joys and fears, when I am old? Will every flower that gems the sod Still seem to smile its praise to God? Will starry nights and woodland streams Glide o'er life's page like elfin dreams? Or will I care no more to hold These treasures dear, when I am old? How will the praise and blame of men Fall on my heart and conscience then? Will I have learned to bear the sneers, That fill my eyes with angry tears? Will words of love such joy unfold, Such music wake, when I am old? Who, at that far-off time, will be The friends I'll love, and who to me Will make life sweet? Will I still trace Some beauty in each wrinkled face? Ah, will my hands the same hands fold In friendship's clasp, when I am old? When I am old? It seems to me That such a time can never be: That my strong eyes shall fail in sight. My quick ear hear no sound aright; So far away—'tis almost bold For me to say "when I am old." Yet should God bless my life with age, May I have written on life's page A noble thought, a word to bless! May I then view with happiness The past, and may my songs unfold A praise to God that I am old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?' by FRANCIS BRET HARTE ON CRITICS; IN IMITATION OF ANACREON by MATTHEW PRIOR AD PATRIAM by CLINTON SCOLLARD THE SEEKERS by HAZEL MCGEE BOWMAN A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND by ANNE BRADSTREET AFTER OPERATION by JULIET BRANHAM THE WISHING MOON by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |