Not unalive to tenderness and truth,—
The good old man is honoured and revered,
And breathes upon the young-limbed race around
A grey and venerable charm of years.
Robert Montgomery.
Youth, with swift feet, walks onward in the way,
The land of joy lies all before his eyes;
Age, stumbling, lingers slower day by day,
Still looking back, for it behind him lies.
Frances Ann Kemble.