A BIRTHDAY is a solemn thing; a fellow realizes then, how speedily the days take wing, the days that do not come again. A little grayer than last year, a little slower in my gait, I feel the dump is drawing near, and still I keep my smile on straight. A little failure of my sight; a bit more deafness in my ears; a few more aches—but that's all right! I would not stop the scudding years. My bald spot is a bit more wide, my muscles grow a trifle slack; I have more stitches in my side, a few more cricks are in my back. But yonder vault of azure bends above no gladder heart than mine, for all about me there are friends, who keep an old gent feeling fine. Their kind words make my bosom swell, and fill my piebald eyes with tears; they tell me I am looking well, and hope I'll live a hundred years. A few more symptoms of the gout have vainly tried to kill my joy; a few more teeth have fallen out, but I'm as happy as a boy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAST LINES OF THOMAS INGOLDSBY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM DON JUAN: DEDICATION [OR, INVOCATION] by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IRELAND (1847) by DENIS FLORENCE MCCARTHY NUPTIAL SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW by WILL S. ADKIN THREE SONGS OF LOVE (CHINESE FASHION): 3. LOVE CALL by WILLIAM A. BEATTY |