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ON RECEIVING A PRESENT OF ROSES
Roses to one so old and grey, So worn with toil and thought and time! Surely the gift has gone astray, For 'tis with youth that roses rhyme; I'm no Anacreon in sooth That can time's ravages defy; Too well I know the time of youth, Of mirth and roses has gone by!
Yet no! a gift like this brings back Some portion of the olden fire, And, heedless of the almanac, Lost hopes again my soul inspire: Time, do thy worst! thou shalt not break My spirit with thy heavy hand Till gifts like these no more can make My heart with gratitude expand.
1899
51
