Grey Hair Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Light as flakes of falling snow
Drop the silent-footed hours;
And the days,- they come and go,
And the years - we scarcely know
How their frosts, and fruits, and flowers,
Transient crops of weal and woe,
Change, and pass, and perish so!
While we muse upon To-day,
Lo! the dream has died away;
And there lives what was To-morrow,
With its present joy or sorrow,
Pains and pleasures, fear and hope,
A variable kaleidoscope:
So on, so on; till years have sped
And those flakes that fell unfelt
Have grown to snows - that never melt!