6-9 Ode To Old

Ode to Old

When you can see beauty
In an old woman’s face:
Beneath graying hair,
Of youth Time left no trace;

Her jowls hang like figs
And eyes have cloudy hue.
With bony hands, she knits;
Her veins pulse richest blue.

I once sat on her knee
And rode in rocking chair,
Watching her antique face,
Fixed in museum air.

When you can see beauty
In an old woman’s face,
Lovelier than that Grecian urn:
Her smile bright as lace.

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