Friday, June 14, 2019

Stages of Life

Why should I grow old and gray,
The twilight at the close of day,
The rose, full-blown, that falls away
To dew-damped grass, to there decay,
Rather than the early morn
When the sun the sun is being  born--
Stay, O stay, eternal spring,
And let me dance 'round the fairies' ring
There's no safe port in a thunderstorm
No sheltered cove my craft can gain
No mother's arms to keep me warm
And hide me from the pelting rain

No tranquil bay to moor the night,
No overgrowth of reed and cane,
No lover's arms to hold me tight
To keep me from the throbbing pain

No hope of respite from the sky
No harbor for my tiny boat
No one to heed my desperate cry
And keep my sinking bark afloat
I don't drink beer
I don't drink wine
But ply me with chocolate
And I am thine

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