'TIS true, thou yet art fair, my Ligurine, No down as yet environs cheek or chin: But when those hairs which now do flow, shall fall, And when thy rosy cheeks turn wan and pale: When in thy glass another Ligurine thou Shalt spy, and scarce thy bearded self shalt know; Then thou (despis'd) shalt sing this piteous song; Why am I old? or why was ever young? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ISAAC AND ARCHIBALD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON EPIGRAM: 27. THE FRUIT by THOMAS WYATT ACT 5 (MIDNIGHT) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AN AUTUMN NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE LONELY WALK by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE PASSING YEAR by MATHILDE BLIND CORONATION ODE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |