OLD AGE
by: Crates
These shriveled sinews and this bending frame,
The workmanship of Time's strong hand proclaim;
Skilled to reverse whate'er the gods create,
And make that crooked which they fashion straight.
Hard choice for man, to die -- or else to be
That tottering, wretched, wrinkled thing you see:
Age then we all prefer; for age we pray,
And travel on to life's last, lingering day;
Then sinking slowly down from worse to worse,
Find heaven's extorted boon our greatest curse.
Happy Heinz to ya SF. :thumb:
Fo sho, I'm lookin' at 50 on Bourbon Street at year's end.
“Age is a question of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
— Satchel Paige Click to expand...