1. THEY soon grow old who grope for gold In marts where all is bought and sold; Who live for self, and on some shelf In darkened vaults hoard up their pelf Cankered and crusted o'er with mould. For them their youth itself is old. 2. They ne'er grow old who gather gold Where spring awakes and flowers unfold; Where suns arise in joyous skies, And fill the soul within their eyes. For them the immortal bards have sung, For them old age itself is young. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESERTER['S MEDITATION] by JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: TO THE READER by THOMAS CAMPION |