Do you know what I will love best of all
To do when I'm old? At the close of day
When the dusk comes down and the shadows play,
And the wind sings loud in the poplars tall,
I will love to get into my corner here—
The curtains drawn, and never a one
To break the stillness—to sit here alone
And dream of these good old times, my dear.
In fancy you'll come and sit by my side—
I can see your face with my eyes close shut,
With the pride and the softness clearly cut,
The obstinate chin and the forehead wide,
The oval cheek and the smile so warm,
The dark eyes full of their fun and power,
With the tender light for the tender hour,
And the flash of fire that was half their charm.
I'll whisper: 'Twas sweet when youth was our own—
The laughter, the nonsense, the freedom from care,
The castles we built high up in the air,
The secrets told to each other alone!
Not all of laughter; the world went wrong,
And the shadows pressed till my heart was sore.
I'll never be glad, I said, any more,
Never be happy, or gay, or strong.
O the sweetest thing in the hour of pain
Is to have one near us who understands,
To touch us gently and hold our hands,
Till our strength and courage come back again.
At love's swift pace you hurried to me—
Your tender words they will ring in my ears
When I sit and dream after long, long years—
The shine in your eyes through the mists I'll see.
Our lives will be lying so far apart,
And time, no doubt, will have given us much
Of weary wisdom; put many a touch
Of his withering hand on face and heart.
But I know what I will love best of all
To do at the end of the busy day,
When the dusk comes down and the shadows play,
And the wind sings low in the poplars tall.
I will love to get into my corner here,
With the curtains drawn, and never a one
To break the stillness—to sit here alone
And dream of these happy days, my dear,
And take my treasures from memory's hold—
The tears, the laughter, the songs that were sung—
O the friends we love when the heart is young
Are the friends we love when the heart grows old!
