OLD, WHILE YOUNG.
BY MABEL CLIFFORD.
I asked a friend why she was so sad? Her reply was,
"Sorrow hath made me old, while young."
You ask me why I am so strangely tearful,
Why clouds of anguish o'er my brow are flung?
You strive and pray to make me gay and cheerful,
And wonder how I can be sad while young.
Yes, I am young in years, but not in feeling,
For many frosts upon my bosom lie,