When thy eyes begin to glow dimly
And walk form not a rhyme with the body;
Flowers when gone for a single lily
And world's eyes see not once fair lady;
When even cup loathes thy shaky pout
And time engraves its loath on thy rosy cheeks;
Eyelids drop when for vision out
And life only but leaks;
When thy grey hair die day by day
And all crests shrink to troughs;
See thou not when a single ray
And violently shake thee those coughs.
Then dear, pick my book up,–
Where thy youth shines immortally,
Unhampered by the time's hand rough.
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