In Days To Come

In days to come--whatever ache Of age shall rack our bones, or quake Our slackened thews--whatever grip Rheumatic catch us i' the hip,-- We, each one, for the other's sake, Will of our very wailings make Such quips of song as well may shake The spasm'd corners from the lip-- In days to come.

Ho! ho! how our old hearts shall rake The past up!--how our dry eyes slake Their sight upon the dewy drip Of juicy-ripe companionship, And blink stars from the blind opaque-- In days to come.