I am grown old, and this is how I know,
Not by the stiffening joints or hair of snow,
(These have been gifts that time as long bestowed)
But by my yearning for a snug abode,
A clean white cottage where the roses grow.

Once when the road-call came I leaped to go,
But now I linger by the hearth aglow,
The weight of years is my too-heavy load-
I am grown old.

There is no summons in the winds that blow,
There is no challenge in the seas that flow,
There is no magic in the rovers' code,
I am aweary of the open road,
Bitter it is to learn, but it is so,
I am grown old.

Published in: Woman's World magazine - April 1912

© 2000-2006, Berton Braley Cyber Museum.
All rights reserved.
Contact Webmaster Peter Leeflang