Years grow and gather--each a gem <br />Lustrous with laughter and with tears, <br />And cunning Time a crown of years <br />Contrives for her who weareth them. <br /> <br />No chance can snatch this diadem, <br />It trembles not with hopes or fears, <br />It shines before the rose appears, <br />And when the leaves forsake her stem. <br /> <br />Time sets his jewels one by one. <br />Then wherefore mourn the wreaths that lie <br />In attic chambers of the past? <br />They withered ere the day was done. <br />This coronal will never die, <br />Nor shall you lose it at the last.<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-crown-of-years/
