When I was young I used to wonder When they are old how people know? And now the ones I loved lie under The Summer rain, the Winter snow. The way of life is marked with crosses, Each little journey has its mound; We know our ages by our losses, Not wealth nor wisdom we have found. Yes, one by one the loved ones leave us, Some sombre hour some soul departs; Yes, one by one our sorrows grieve us, Engrave their record on our hearts. When are we old? Oh, when we wander The way alone, with no one near! -- When those we love are over yonder, More over there than over here. Yet, sturdy sons and lovely daughters, Sweet wife, dear husband, honored friend, We, too, must pass beyond the waters, Must journey to the journey's end. And, when the moment comes for going, We shall not weep, we shall not care -- We shall be glad to follow, knowing You all are waiting over there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: MAY MORNING by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MOTHER (MARGERY CARRUTH, 1896-1981) by HAYDEN CARRUTH WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |