Friday, September 02, 2011

Let Me Grow Lovely

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?
                              
                    Karle Wilson Baker

4 comments: