Somehow, it seemed, he'd always spent

His life living among

Those who were old as he was old

Or who were old when he was young.

 

In years he once had been a lad,

The mirror showed a boy;

But mentally he was old and sad,

Scarce knowing life's young joy.

 

Kith and kin a scarcity

When reckoning  up the years,

Left little room for levity

Or pointless childish tears.

 

He grew to imitate older ways

And not be thought a child;

In doing so, he lost the days

Of being young and wild.

 

He grew to lose youth then despise

The young that followed on;

Far older than his years, and wise

To what had been - and gone.

 

Now he was old and nearly done,

With little left to gain;

Wishing young in heart had won

And  spared him all that pain.