He was born old; they who got him were grey, <br />And quaint as things that long had seasoned here <br />When that he came — a too true vintage of <br />The lateness of the brewing blood and brain; <br />Even as in their whims and ways he had <br />Existed, an imaginary thing, <br />Twin-lived in him and her e'en long before <br />They were united in the dream of love. <br />And therefore comes it that his young life wears <br />So old a countenance, that he in sooth <br />Is so too grown-up in his ways and whims; <br />Unlike the youngling of an early pair, <br />Who's ta'en the freshness of their favour on, <br />And is as frisky as the youth of love.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-fashioned-child/
