Father William

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"The few locks which are left you are grey;

You are hale, Father William,—a hearty old man;

Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,

"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,

And abused not my health and my vigour at first,

That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"And pleasures with youth pass away;

And yet you lament not the days that are gone:

Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,

"I remembered that youth could not last;

I thought of the future, whatever I did,

That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"And life must be hastening away;

You are cheerful and love to converse upon death:

Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;

"Let the cause thy attention engage:

In the days of my youth I remembered my God;

And he hath not forgotten my age."