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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529867" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love and Age</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,<br>When I was six and you were four;<br>When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,<br>Were pleasures soon to please no more.<br>Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,<br>With little playmates, to and fro,<br>We wander'd hand in hand together;<br>But that was sixty years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You grew a lovely roseate maiden,<br>And still our early love was strong;<br>Still with no care our days were laden,<br>They glided joyously along;<br>And I did love you very dearly,<br>How dearly words want power to show;<br>I thought your heart was touch'd as nearly;<br>But that was fifty years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then other lovers came around you,<br>Your beauty grew from year to year,<br>And many a splendid circle found you<br>The centre of its glimmering sphere.<br>I saw you then, first vows forsaking,<br>On rank and wealth your hand bestow;<br>O, then I thought my heart was breaking!--<br>But that was forty years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I lived on, to wed another:<br>No cause she gave me to repine;<br>And when I heard you were a mother,<br>I did not wish the children mine.<br>My own young flock, in fair progression,<br>Made up a pleasant Christmas row:<br>My joy in them was past expression;<br>But that was thirty years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You grew a matron plump and comely,<br>You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;<br>My earthly lot was far more homely;<br>But I too had my festal days.<br>No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd<br>Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow,<br>Than when my youngest child was christen'd;<br>But that was twenty years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time pass'd. My eldest girl was married,<br>And I am now a grandsire gray;<br>One pet of four years old I've carried<br>Among the wild-flower'd meads to play.<br>In our old fields of childish pleasure,<br>Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,<br>She fills her basket's ample measure;<br>And that is not ten years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But though first love's impassion'd blindness<br>Has pass'd away in colder light,<br>I still have thought of you with kindness,<br>And shall do, till our last good-night.<br>The ever-rolling silent hours<br>Will bring a time we shall not know,<br>When our young days of gathering flowers<br>Will be an hundred years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Love+Peacock">Thomas Love Peacock</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=529867" data-title="Love and Age de Thomas Love Peacock" data-description="I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,
Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,
With little playmates, to and fro,
We..."></div>
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