I shall not run upstairs again, And oh, the foolish grief I feel! I must go carefully, or pain Will thrust me through with its bright steel. I never thought that I should care When the first shadow fell on me. I planned lace caps for my white hair, And hoped to grow old gracefully. I thought that when Age came I'd stand (If Age should really come at all!) And greet him with extended hand As my last partner at a ball. But now, when you with easy grace Run up ahead or wait for me, Such bitterness is in my face I turn my head lest you should see. |