AND HOW HE GAINED THEM
|
You are old, Father William the young
man cried, |
The few locks which are left you are
grey; |
You are hale, Father William, a hearty
old man, |
Now tell me the reason, I pray.
|
In the days of my youth, Father William
replied, |
I remember’d that youth would fly fast, |
And abused not my health and my vigour
at first, |
That I never might need them at last.
|
You are old, Father William, the young
man cried, |
And pleasures with youth pass away; |
And yet you lament not the days that
are gone, |
Now tell me the reason, I pray.
|
In the days of my youth, Father William
replied, |
I remember’d that youth could not last; |
I thought of the future, whatever I
did, |
That I never might grieve for the past.
|
You are old, Father William, the young
man cried, |
And life must be hastening away; |
You are cheerful, and love to converse
upon death, |
Now tell me the reason, I pray.
|
I am cheerful, young man, Father
William replied, |
Let the cause thy attention engage; |
In the days of my youth I remember’d my
God! |
And He hath not forgotten my age. |
Westbury, 1799
|
Robert
Southey |
Classic Poems |
|
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