Old, but Young

Infirmities of age have not As yet made me their prey; In social life I sometimes feel As one still young and gay.

My spirits buoyant, hopeful, free, No cloud to intervene, Till I'm a wonder to myself, And ask what this can mean.

Is there a dark and heavy cloud, Now gathering out of sight, To come o'er this my cheerful path, And turn it into night?

Well, be it so; I'll now enjoy Life's blessings while I may, And meet its changes as they come, The footsteps of decay.

At seventy-six we might expect Our life-lights to grow dim, The slow-paced step and wasted form, Though once erect and trim.

'Tis nature's course; time's withering blight Will come on all below. Be ready then for any change Time bids us undergo.

Then when this earth is made anew All clothed in living green, Where blight, decay, and care-worn brows Are never to be seen,

We all shall bloom immortal, fair, In Eden beauty dressed, To share all Heaven's eternal joys, And be forever blessed.