Sad is that woman's lot who year by year Sees one by one her beauties disappear;As Time grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs Impatiently begins todim her eyes-Herself compelled in life's uncertain gloamings To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved combings-Reduced with rougelipsalve and pearly grey To make up for lost timeas best she may!
Silvered is the raven hair Spreading is the parting straight Mottled the complexion fair Halting is the youthful gait,Hollow is the laughter free Spectacled the limpid eye Little will be left of me In the coming by-and-by!
Fading is the taper waist-
Shapeless grows the shapely limb And although securely laced Spreading is the figure trim!
Stouter than I used to be Still more corpulent grow I There will be too much of me In the coming by-and-by!