WHEN I am old, all things I will endure; But now, now, now, while I am young and pure, Give me my portion of delight; and so But let me go. When I am old and tired I shall not care How many reveries I must outwear;— But to the soul as young as April rain, Less pain, less pain! Then roses, roses for the fragrant hair, And wedding torches for the fingers fair, And love, love, love, for the unbroken heart, The perfect heart. When I am old, o'er leagues of sad unrest I shall go softly;—hiding in my breast Some gorgeous dream of youth, until I meet The Grey Friend sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE UNDERWORLD by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE BALINESE WITCH DOCTOR by KAREN SWENSON A COURT LADY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: SONG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH WIND SONG by LUCIA PEARL BOORNAZIAN A PIPE OF TOBACCO (MR. POPE'S STYLE IMITATED) by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE |