On Receiving a Present of Roses

Roses to one so old and grey,So worn with toil and thought and time!Surely the gift has gone astray,For 'tis with youth that roses rhyme;I'm no Anacreon in soothThat can time's ravages defy;Too well I know the time of youth,Of mirth and roses has gone by!

Yet no! a gift like this brings backSome portion of the olden fire,And, heedless of the almanac,Lost hopes again my soul inspire:Time, do thy worst! thou shalt not breakMy spirit with thy heavy handTill gifts like these no more can makeMy heart with gratitude expand.

1899