Explore "Old Age" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Between the midnight and the morn / When wake the weary heart and head, / Troops of gray ghosts from lands forlorn / Keep tryst about my sleepless bed.
I hear their cold, thin voices say: / "Your youth is dying; by-and-by / All that makes up your life to-day, / Withered by age, will shrink and die!"