Oft in danger, yet alive, <br />We are come to thirty-five; <br />Long may better years arrive, <br />Better years than thirty-five. <br />Could philosophers contrive <br />Life to stop at thirty-five, <br />Time his hours should never drive <br />O'er the bounds of thirty-five <br />High to soar, and deep to dive, <br />Nature gives at thirty-five. <br />Ladies, stop and tend your hive, <br />Trifle not at thirty-five; <br />For, howe'er we boast and strive, <br />Life declines from thirty-five: <br />He that ever hopes to thrive <br />Must begin by thirty-five: <br />And all who wisely wish to wive <br />Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.<br /><br />Samuel Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mrs-thrale-on-her-completing-her-thirty-fifth-year/
