PERHAPS, when you grow old—extremely old— And find yourself possessed of little gold, Your friends may hint that, through the long years back, You squandered money, betting at the track— No doubt it's so—and yet, a sunbeam glad, They cannot rob you of the fun you had! Then, too, they may remind you—how you went To the old ballyard, and a fortune spent Through many seasons, when you'd think it shame To stay at home, and miss a single game! Yes, quite correct—such recklessness was bad— Yet they can't rob you of the fun you had! The boxing game—it was expensive, too, And thus it was the shekels filtered through Your careless fingers—a right costly court Is that maintained by emperors of sport— Yes, you were foolish—and it's very sad— But none can rob you of the fun you had! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DYING WORDS OF STONEWALL JACKSON by SIDNEY LANIER SONNET: 3 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE MISTRESS; A SONG by JOHN WILMOT THE HOUREGLASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT UNDOMESTICATED ANIMALS by BERTON BRALEY |