Read "Growing Old" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Little by little the year grows old, / The red leaves drop from the maple boughs; / The sun grows dim, and the winds blow cold, / Down from the distant arctic seas.
Out of the skies the soft light dies, / And the shadows of autumn come creeping over, / And the bee and the bird are no longer heard / In grove or meadow, or field of clover.
Little by little our lives grow old, / Our faces no longer are fair to see; / For gray creeps into the curls of gold, / And the red fades out of the cheeks, ah me!
And the birds that sang till our heart strings rang / With strains of hope, and joy, and pleasure, / Have flown away; and our hearts today / Hear only the weird wind's solemn measure.
Youth and summer, and beauty and bloom, / Droop and die in the autumn weather, / But up from the gloom of the winter's tomb, / They shall rise, in God's good time, together.