OLD AGE

by: Anne Bradstreet (c.1612-1672)

Y memory is short, and braine is dry.

My Almond-tree (gray haires) doth flourish now,

And back, once straight, begins apace to bow.

My grinders now are few, my sight doth faile

My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale.

No more rejoyce, at musickes pleasant noyse.

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