When I am old and drenched in worlds of sadness, And wear a lacy cap upon my head; When, looking past the future's singing gladness, I linger, wistful, in the years long dead. When I am old, and young folk all about me, Speak softly of religion, when they speak, When parties are a grand success without me; And when my laugh is fluttering and weak--
Will I then be content to raise my glances,
Serenely to the cloud-entangled sky?
And will I be content to watch at dances,
Without a heartbreak, as the hours pass by?
Or when I see young lovers fingers twine, Will I remember, dear, your lips on mine?
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