I HEARD the down-and-outer say, "I'm canned because I'm old and gray. Employers shoo me from their doors; they want young men to do their chores. I know I'm long on sterling worth, but there's no place for me on earth, no job for me beneath the moon, for I was born some years too soon. Youth must be served, and age must slide down where the dump is yawning wide." I've often heard this dismal spiel from gents panhandling for a meal, but in my daily walks I find that old boys do not fall behind, if they still keep their smiles on straight, and keep their habits up to date. Too many old men sing this song, that every modern thing is wrong. They're always talking of the past, and so they're also- rans at last. A man's gray hair will cut no grass, if he can make things come to pass, if he will blithely do his stunt with cheerful and undaunted front. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDIAN SUMMER by EMILY DICKINSON AFTERMATH by SIEGFRIED SASSOON DEDICATION OF THE DESIGNS TO BLAIR'S GRAVE: TO THE QUEEN by WILLIAM BLAKE THE UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |