Old And Young

LONG ago, on a bright spring day, I passed a little child at play; And as I passed, in childish glee She called to me, “Come and play with me!” But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height I was fain to climb before the night; So, half-impatient, I answered, “Nay! I am too old, too old to play.” Long, long after, in Autumn time— My limbs were grown too old to climb— I passed a child on a pleasant lea, And I called to her, “Come and play with me!” But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book; And scarce she lifted a wondering look, As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay! I am too old, too old to play!”