Poems (Sharpless)/A Protest
For works with similar titles, see A Protest.
A PROTEST
"What is it to grow old?It is to spend long daysAnd not once feel that we were ever young;It is to add immuredIn the hot prison of the presentMonth to month with weary pain."—Matthew Arnold.
—Aye? Is this growing old? Then we defy Thy utmost power, Time! Make white the hair,Bow the frail form, and dim the sunken eye, We shall not be thy thralls! Thou mayst despair Of touching hearts, while Love is nestling there,Watching with wistful looks the young, who tread With eager feet the paths we must forego.We live in their success. Our hopes outspread Our own life's narrow limit, and seize holdOn all sweet, noble deeds where'er they blow; Wrap as thou wilt, this chrysalis, fold on fold, While Love smiles in the heart, thou canst not make us old.