Let me grow lovely, growing old--
So many fine things do:
Laces, and ivory, and gold,
And silks need not be new;
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?
A beautiful and thought provoking desire incorporated in a sweet song with little flight of imagery.
lovely; For it has hammered loud enough, Clamored enough, when all is said: Only its quiet part shall live When I am dead.
..........a wonderful poem....to be as lovely as a tree would be a dream...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Let me grow lovely, growing old- So many fine things do: Laces, and ivory, and gold, And silks need not be new; .../// beautiful poem penned