Am I despised, because you say; <br />And I dare swear, that I am gray? <br />Know, Lady, you have but your day! <br />And time will come when you shall wear <br />Such frost and snow upon your hair; <br />And when, though long, it comes to pass, <br />You question with your looking-glass, <br />And in that sincere crystal seek <br />But find no rose-bud in your cheek, <br />Nor any bed to give the shew <br />Where such a rare carnation grew:- <br />Ah! then too late, close in your chamber keeping, <br />It will be told <br />That you are old,-- <br />By those true tears you're weeping.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-gentlewoman-objecting-to-him-hisgray-hairs/
