When I am old and years have brought their gray,
Let me still walk a garden path with love
Remembering fire-opaled yesterday,
Seeing the white-winged gulls of hope above;
Where dreams still lingering an accolade,
Recall the lilac song-gifts I have known,
The tribute which the robins gladly paid,
The wealth of beauty every soul may own.
In this loved garden, let my heart by young--
Years may enhance the lilting power to sing.
Perhaps my sweetest song is yet unsung
So bid me feel the springtime burgeoning.
But let me stroll a garden where time's lever
Moves on, yet April sings in hearts forever.
