I'm Growing Old
I’M growing old — ‘t is surely so;
And yet how short it seems
Since I was but a sportive child,
Enjoying childish dreams!
I cannot see the change that comes
With such an even pace;
I mark not when the wrinkles fall
Upon my fading face.
I know I’m old; and yet my heart
Is just as young and gay
As e’er it was before my locks
Of bright brown turned to gray.
I know these eyes to other eyes
Look not so bright and glad
As once they looked; and yet ‘tis nor
Because my heart’s more sad.
I never watched with purer joy
The floating clouds and glowing skies,
While glistening tears of rapture fill
These old and fading eyes.
And when I mark the cheek, wkere once
The bright rose used to glow,
It grieves me not to see instead
The almond crown my brow.
I’ve seen the flower grow old and pale,
And withered more than I;
I’ve seen it lose its every charm,
Then droop away and die.
And then I’ve seen it rise again,
Bright as the beaming sky,
And young and pure and beautiful—
And felt that so shall I.
Then what if I am growing old?
My heart is changeless still,
And God has given me enough
This loving heart to fill.
I love to see the sun go down,
And lengthening shadows throw
Along the ground, while o’er my head
The clouds in crimson glow.
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poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
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