Greybeards at Play by G. K. (Gilbert Keith) Chesterton
page 2 of 17 (11%)
page 2 of 17 (11%)
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I knew the secrets of his youth;
I watched his every mood. The little things that none but I Saw were beyond his wont, The streaming hair, the tie behind, The coat tails worn in front. I marked the absent-minded scream, The little nervous trick Of rolling in the grate, with eyes By friendship's light made quick. But youth's black storms are gone and past, Bare is each aged brow; And, since with age we're growing bald, Let us be babies now. Learning we knew; but still to-day, With spelling-book devotion, Words of one syllable we seek In moments of emotion. Riches we knew; and well dressed dolls-- Dolls living--who expressed No filial thoughts, however much You thumped them in the chest. Old happiness is grey as we, And we may still outstrip her; |
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