Read "Old Times" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times; / Of the long-lost golden hours. / When "Winter" meant only Christmas chimes, / And "Summer" wreaths of flowers. / Life has grown old, and cold, my friend, / And the winter now, means death. / And summer blossoms speak all too plain / Of the dear, dead forms beneath.
But let us talk of the past to-night; / And live it over again, / We will put the long years out of sight. / And dream we are young as then. / But you must not look at me, my friend, / And I must not look at you, / Or the furrowed brows, and silvered locks, / Will prove our dream untrue.