Child with disdainful eye,
Regard me kindly ere I die--
You too will grow as old as I.
Your brain will slow, your vision fade,
Your posture stoop, your head be grayed,
Your hearing fail, your sweet voice quake,
Your hip will hitch, your sure hands shake.
Child with disdainful eye,
Regard me kindly when I die--
You too within a grave will lie.
Friday, January 16, 2009
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