Classic Poem

Once I was yellow-haired, and ringlets fell
In clusters round my brow;
Grizzled and sparse tonight my short grey crop,
No lustre in it now.

Better to me the shining locks of youth,
Or raven's dusky hue,
Than dear old age, which chilly wisdom brings,
If what they say be true.

I only know that as I pass the road
No woman looks my way;
They think my head and heart alike are cold—
Yet I have had my day.