Poems (Trask)/Growing Old
For works with similar titles, see Growing Old.
GROWING OLD.
They sit together at the door Through which, long years ago, They passed, a newly-wedded pair, In youth's first rosy glow. Then her round cheek was red and warm, Her hair was rippling gold; His form was stately as the oak: But now they both are old.
Her blooming cheek is wrinkled now, The sweet blue eyes are dim; But full of love and holy trust They ever turn to him, With the calm faith and hope she felt Upon her bridal day, When the long future, flower-clad, Stretched out before her lay.
Now, in the eventide of life, They watch the twilight haze Grow on the hills and hang above The chain of land-locked bays,— They see the sun sink slowly down To gladden other lands,—They feel night coming, and they sit Serene, with close-clasped hands.