Here goes a man of seventy-four, <br />Who sees not what life means for him, <br />And here another in years a score <br />Who reads its very figure and trim. <br /> <br />The one who shall walk to-day with me <br />Is not the youth who gazes far, <br />But the breezy wight who cannot see <br />What Earth's ingrained conditions are.<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/seventy-four-and-twenty/
