Poems (Trask)/Growing Old
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GROWING OLD.
They sit together at the door
Through which, long years ago,
They passed, a newly-wedded pair,
In youth's first rosy glow.
Then her round cheek was red and warm,
Her hair was rippling gold;
His form was stately as the oak:
But now they both are old.
Through which, long years ago,
They passed, a newly-wedded pair,
In youth's first rosy glow.
Then her round cheek was red and warm,
Her hair was rippling gold;
His form was stately as the oak:
But now they both are old.
Her blooming cheek is wrinkled now,
The sweet blue eyes are dim;
But full of love and holy trust
They ever turn to him,
With the calm faith and hope she felt
Upon her bridal day,
When the long future, flower-clad,
Stretched out before her lay.
The sweet blue eyes are dim;
But full of love and holy trust
They ever turn to him,
With the calm faith and hope she felt
Upon her bridal day,
When the long future, flower-clad,
Stretched out before her lay.
Now, in the eventide of life,
They watch the twilight haze
Grow on the hills and hang above
The chain of land-locked bays,—
They see the sun sink slowly down
To gladden other lands,—
They feel night coming, and they sit
Serene, with close-clasped hands.
They watch the twilight haze
Grow on the hills and hang above
The chain of land-locked bays,—
They see the sun sink slowly down
To gladden other lands,—
They feel night coming, and they sit
Serene, with close-clasped hands.