When face is wrinkled and the eyes are dim,
When people seem to talk in low whispers;
When joy seems to have drained and life is grim,
When years ahead seem too full of winters;
When joints are creaky, moving is a pain,
When days are drowsy, nights devoid of sleep;
When thoughts of future seem to be in vain,
And those of the days past do make one weep;
It’s then that we realise we are old
And no longer welcome among the young.
The world inside and outside is too cold
And life’s song seems to have been fully sung.
What should one do when one’s inning is up;
When wine is not there, empty is the cup?
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