WHEN I am only fit to go to bed, Or hobble out to sit within the sun, Ring down the curtain, say the play is done, And the last petals of the poppy shed! I do not want to live when I am old, I have no use for things I cannot love; And when the day that I am talking of (Which God forfend!) is come, it will be cold. But if there is another place than this, Where all the men will greet me as "Old Man," And all the women wrap me in a smile, Where money is more useless than a kiss, And good wine is not put beneath the ban, I will go there and stay a little while. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRADLE SONG OF THE POOR by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIMSELF by WALTER RALEIGH SONG, FR. THE TWO GENTELEM OF VERONA by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SATIRE: 4 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS THE RELAPSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |