When I am old and drenched in worlds of sadness,
And wear a lacy cap upon my head;
When, looking past the future's singing gladness,
I linger, wistful, in the years long dead.
When I am old, and young folk all about me,
Speak softly of religion, when they speak,
When parties are a grand success without me;
And when my laugh is fluttering and weak-
Will I then be content to raise my glances,
Serenely to the cloud-entangled sky?
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: old age