THAT age was older once than now, <br />In spite of locks untimely shed, <br />Or silvered on the youthful brow; <br />That babes make love and children wed. <br /> <br />That sunshine had a heavenly glow, <br />Which faded with those 'good old days' <br />When winters came with deeper snow, <br />And autumns with a softer haze. <br /> <br />That--mother, sister, wife, or child-- <br />The 'best of women' each has known. <br />Were school-boys ever half so wild? <br />How young the grandpapas have grown! <br /> <br />That but for this our souls were free, <br />And but for that our lives were blest; <br />That in some season yet to be <br />Our cares will leave us time to rest. <br /> <br />Whene'er we groan with ache or pain,-- <br />Some common ailment of the race,-- <br />Though doctors think the matter plain,-- <br />That ours is 'a peculiar case.' <br /> <br />That when like babes with fingers burned <br />We count one bitter maxim more, <br />Our lesson all the world has learned, <br />And men are wiser than before. <br /> <br />That when we sob o'er fancied woes, <br />The angels hovering overhead <br />Count every pitying drop that flows, <br />And love us for the tears we shed. <br /> <br />That when we stand with tearless eye <br />And turn the beggar from our door, <br />They still approve us when we sigh, <br />'Ah, had I but one thousand more!' <br /> <br />Though temples crowd the crumbled brink <br />O'erhanging truth's eternal flow, <br />Their tablets bold with what we think, <br />Their echoes dumb to what we know; <br /> <br />That one unquestioned text we read, <br />All doubt beyond, all fear above, <br />Nor crackling pile nor cursing creed <br />Can burn or blot it: GOD IS LOVE!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-we-all-think/
