Classic Poem

What are you thinking of so seriously?

My birthday, Ann.
Your birthday? Mercy me,
I'd quite forgotten that it falls to-day!
What matter, wife? Birthdays as one grows grey
Are scarce the anniversaries of joy
They once were.
I can't picture you a boy.
Your hair's no greyer now than when we met
The first time, just a year ago; and yet
You did not think yourself too grey to wed
A girl just fresh from school.
And her gold head
Seemingly didn't think itself too young
To marry grizzled locks?
A golden tongue
Had more to do with it than silver hairs.
But you, you came upon me unawares
Before I'd realised what life might be,
Before I knew what it might mean to me,
Though you were old enough to be more wise ...

Yet not too old to be dazzled by your eyes!
My heart was young enough ...
At fifty-nine!

Ay, and still loves to see your blue eyes shine,
Even though anger fire them.
Then it's true
Years count for naught. I'm older far than you.
Your heart's a boy's heart still; but mine's as old
As any woman's heart whose tale is told.
Though you were forty years of age, a man
Half-way through life, before my life began,
I have outstripped you in a single year,
And have naught left to hope for or to fear.