Poetry Sunday

Since I retired (for the second and final time) back in April, I've been dealing with the reality of my advancing age. Navigating the rocky shoals of Social Security, Medicare, and Medicare Supplements is bad enough, but watching my beloved grandchildren turn one-by-one into teenagers brings it home more than any bureaucratic morass ever could. And that brings us to this poem by Charles Kingsley that looks at both sides of the coin of life ...

Young and Old 

by Charles Kingsley 

When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young.


Have a good day. Enjoy life, whatever your age.

See you tomorrow for Musical Monday ... more thoughts then.

Bilbo