<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381432" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Voice of Age</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She'd look upon us, if she could, <br>As hard as Rhadamanthus would; <br>Yet one may see,—who sees her face, <br>Her crown of silver and of lace, <br>Her mystical serene address<br>Of age alloyed with loveliness,— <br>That she would not annihilate <br>The frailest of things animate. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She has opinions of our ways, <br>And if we’re not all mad, she says,—<br>If our ways are not wholly worse <br>Than others, for not being hers,— <br>There might somehow be found a few <br>Less insane things for us to do, <br>And we might have a little heed<br>Of what Belshazzar couldn’t read. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She feels, with all our furniture, <br>Room yet for something more secure <br>Than our self-kindled aureoles <br>To guide our poor forgotten souls;<br>But when we have explained that grace <br>Dwells now in doing for the race, <br>She nods—as if she were relieved; <br>Almost as if she were deceived. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She frowns at much of what she hears,<br>And shakes her head, and has her fears; <br>Though none may know, by any chance, <br>What rose-leaf ashes of romance <br>Are faintly stirred by later days <br>That would be well enough, she says,<br>If only people were more wise, <br>And grown-up children used their eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edwin+Arlington+Robinson">Edwin Arlington Robinson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381432" data-title="The Voice of Age de Edwin Arlington Robinson" data-description="She'd look upon us, if she could, As hard as Rhadamanthus would; Yet one may see,—who sees her face, Her crown of silver and of lace, Her mystical serene address Of age alloyed with loveliness,— That she would not annihilate The frailest..."></div> </div> </div>

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