Wherefore these flowers? floral applause? <br />Ah, no, these blossoms came to say <br />That I am growing old, because <br />I number fifty years to-day. <br />O rapid, ever-fleeting day! <br />O moments lost, I know not how! <br />O wrinkled cheek and hair grown gray! <br />Alas, for I am fifty now! <br />Sad age, when we pursue no more <br />Fruit dies upon the withering tree: <br />Hark! some one rapped upon my door. <br />Nay, open not. 'Tis not for me, <br />Or else the doctor calls. Not yet <br />Must I expect his studious bow. <br />Once I'd have called, 'Come in, Lizzette' <br />Alas, for I am fifty now! <br />In age what aches and pains abound: <br />The torturing gout racks us awhile; <br />Blindness, a prison dark, profound; <br />Or deafness that provokes a smile. <br />Then Reason's lamp grows faint and dim <br />With flickering ray. Children, allow <br />Old Age the honor due to him <br />Alas, for I am fifty now! <br />Ah, heaven! the voice of Death I know, <br />Who rubs his hands in joyous mood; <br />The sexton knocks and I must go, - <br />Farewell, my friends the human brood! <br />Below are famine, plague, and strife; <br />Above, new heavens my soul endow: <br />Since God remains, begin, new life! <br />Alas, for I am fifty now! <br />But no, 'tis you, sweetheart, whose youth, <br />Tempting my soul with dainty ways, <br />Shall hide from it the somber truth, <br />This incubus of evil days. <br />Springtime is yours, and flowers; come then, <br />Scatter your roses on my brow, <br />And let me dream of youth again - <br />Alas, for I am fifty now!<br /><br />Pierre Jean de Beranger<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fifty-years/
