That I never might need them at last.”
“You are old, father William,” the young man cried,
“And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone:
Now tell me the reason, I pray.”
“In the days of my youth,” father William replied,
“I remembered that youth could not last;
I thought of the future whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past.”
“You are old, father William,” the young man cried,