Old age came down the steep of years,
Beneath life's burden bending;
With tottering steps he feebly trod,
And breathing sighs and prayers to God,
He met with youth ascending.
'Ah, whither dost thou bend thy course?'
Said he whose head was hoary—
'I go,' said youth, 'to yonder heighth,
Where through long vistas, glancing bright
Are Honor, Wealth, and Glory.
'Be not deceived,' old age replied,
'In vain will be thy toiling;
I long have chased those beaming joys,
Oft grasp'd them, but the fleeting toys
Were from me still recoiling.'
Youth raised his eyes and look'd ahead;
The prospect still was bright—
'I must go on, prevent me not,
For yonder is a sunny spot,
That promiseth delight.'
With joyous bound, he onward went,
His eager course to keep,
And, hope still sparkling in his eyes,
Towards yonder sunny spot he flies,
And struggles up the steep.