From our youth to our age
We have passed each stage
      In old immemorial order,
From primitive days
Through flowery ways
      With love like a hedge as their border.
Ah, youth was a kingdom of joy,
      And we were the king and the queen,
           When I was a year
           Short of thirty, my dear,
      And you were just nearing nineteen.
But dark follows light
And day follows night
      As the old planet circles the sun;
      And nature still traces
      Her score on our faces
           And tallies the years as they run.
      Have they chilled the old warmth in your heart?
           I swear that they have not in mine,
                Though I am a year
                Short of sixty, my dear,
           And you are — well, say thirty-nine.

This poem is in the public domain.