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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508168" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Song Of Sixty-Five</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brave Thackeray has trolled of days when he was twenty-one,<br>And bounded up five flights of stairs, a gallant garreteer;<br>And yet again in mellow vein when youth was gaily run,<br>Has dipped his nose in Gascon wine, and told of Forty Year.<br>But if I worthy were to sing a richer, rarer time,<br>I'd tune my pipes before the fire and merrily I'd strive<br>To praise that age when prose again has given way to rhyme,<br>The Indian Summer days of life when I'll be Sixty-five;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For then my work will all be done, my voyaging be past,<br>And I'll have earned the right to rest where folding hills are green;<br>So in some glassy anchorage I'll make my cable fast, --<br>Oh, let the seas show all their teeth, I'll sit and smile serene.<br>The storm may bellow round the roof, I'll bide beside the fire,<br>And many a scene of sail and trail within the flame I'll see;<br>For I'll have worn away the spur of passion and desire. . . .<br>Oh yes, when I am Sixty-five, what peace will come to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'll take my breakfast in my bed, I'll rise at half-past ten,<br>When all the world is nicely groomed and full of golden song;<br>I'll smoke a bit and joke a bit, and read the news, and then<br>I'll potter round my peach-trees till I hear the luncheon gong.<br>And after that I think I'll doze an hour, well, maybe two,<br>And then I'll show some kindred soul how well my roses thrive;<br>I'll do the things I never yet have found the time to do. . . .<br>Oh, won't I be the busy man when I am Sixty-five.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'll revel in my library; I'll read De Morgan's books;<br>I'll grow so garrulous I fear you'll write me down a bore;<br>I'll watch the ways of ants and bees in quiet sunny nooks,<br>I'll understand Creation as I never did before.<br>When gossips round the tea-cups talk I'll listen to it all;<br>On smiling days some kindly friend will take me for a drive:<br>I'll own a shaggy collie dog that dashes to my call:<br>I'll celebrate my second youth when I am Sixty-five.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, though I've twenty years to go, I see myself quite plain,<br>A wrinkling, twinkling, rosy-cheeked, benevolent old chap;<br>I think I'll wear a tartan shawl and lean upon a cane.<br>I hope that I'll have silver hair beneath a velvet cap.<br>I see my little grandchildren a-romping round my knee;<br>So gay the scene, I almost wish 'twould hasten to arrive.<br>Let others sing of Youth and Spring, still will it seem to me<br>The golden time's the olden time, some time round Sixty-five.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<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=508168" data-title="A Song Of Sixty-Five de Robert William Service" data-description="Brave Thackeray has trolled of days when he was twenty-one,
And bounded up five flights of stairs, a gallant garreteer;
And yet again in mellow vein when youth was gaily run,
Has dipped his nose in Gascon wine, and told of Forty Year.
But if I wor..."></div>
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