I’m not as young as when I was nineteen,
Nor when I reached th’almighty twenty-one.
My life, so long a race which must be won,
Now seems uncounted, all the scorecards clean.
But I must say, with not a question spoke,
That I am younger than I was last year,
At least my heart is. I no longer fear
The passing time, nor wish youth, to evoke.
My many days once seemed a heavy load
To carry. Now I shoulder them with ease.
I laugh, and give my days a little squeeze,
And take them with me; life to me bestowed.
‘Tis happiness I feel, and know it plain,
And so, this joy no longer need I feign.