Growing Old Poem by Gerald Massey
Growing Old
THE stream of Life that brimmed its banks of old,
We drain to gather Wisdom's grains of gold;
And often as we count the riches o'er,
Half wish our wealth were drowned in it once more!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: old
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8/28/2026 2:20:14 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
