We Must Grow Old

I wish I were a child again... With time to roam and play
... I wish that I could walk again... The paths of yesterday
... Without a worry in my heart... Or problem on
my mind... And only more of happiness ... And friend-
liness to find... When spring was green, the summer gold
... And fall an artist's scheme... And winter was a fairy-
land... Where we would laugh and dream... I wish that
I could put away ... The burdens that are mine... And
be once more that little child ... Of seven, eight or nine ...
But time and tide can't be denied ... As calendars unfold
... Our worries weigh, our hair must gray... And all of
us grow old.


James J. Metcalfe



This poem is on page 133 in book Poem Portraits of Inspiration by James J. Metcalfe

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