The Old Man Dreams
OH for one hour of youthful joy!Give back my twentieth spring!I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy,Than reign, a gray-beard king.
Off with the spoils of wrinkled age!Away with Learning's crown!Tear out life's Wisdom-written page,And dash its trophies down!
One moment let my life-blood streamFrom boyhood's fount of flame!Give me one giddy, reeling dreamOf life all love and fame!
. . . . .
My listening angel heard the prayer,And, calmly smiling, said,"If I but touch thy silvered hairThy hasty wish hath sped.
"But is there nothing in thy track,To bid thee fondly stay,While the swift seasons hurry backTo find the wished-for day?"
"Ah, truest soul of womankind!Without thee what were life ?One bliss I cannot leave behind:I'll take-- my-- precious-- wife!"
The angel took a sapphire penAnd wrote in rainbow dew,The man would be a boy again,And be a husband too!
"And is there nothing yet unsaid,Before the change appears?Remember, all their gifts have fledWith those dissolving years."
"Why, yes;" for memory would recallMy fond paternal joys;"I could not bear to leave them all--I'll take-- my-- girl-- and-- boys."
The smiling angel dropped his pen,--"Why, this will never do;The man would be a boy again,And be a father too!"
. . . . .
And so I laughed,-- my laughter wokeThe household with its noise,--And wrote my dream, when morning broke,To please the gray-haired boys.
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