Karle Wilson Baker
Let Me Grow Lovely
Poem by Karle Wilson Baker
Let me grow lovely, growing old--
So many fine things do:
Laces, and ivory, and gold,
And silks need not be new;
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?
Comments about Let Me Grow Lovely by Karle Wilson Baker
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Read poems about / on: tree