In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold; <br />In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold: <br />There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire, <br />Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire. <br /> <br />In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine, <br />They have store of good venison, with old canary wine, <br />With singing and music to heighten the cheer; <br />Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare. <br /> <br />In a costly palace Youth is still carest <br />By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest; <br />In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails: <br />Does Age begin to prattle?-no man heark'neth to his tales. <br /> <br />In a costly palace if the child with a pin <br />Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in; <br />In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish <br />For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish. <br /> <br />In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust; <br />In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust, <br />Think upon the former days, when he was well to do, <br />Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too. <br /> <br />In a costly palace Youth his temples hides <br />With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides; <br />In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare, <br />With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air. <br /> <br />In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride, <br />To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side, <br />That none to do them injury may have pretence; <br />Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-ballad-6/
