Poems on Age
I feel like one,
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm’d and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
What though youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.
All that’s bright must fade,—
The brightest and the fleetest;
All that’s sweet was made,
But to be lost when sweetest.
Thomas Moore