Classic Poem

O cruel thou, while yet the best
Is thine of Beauty's fair bequest,
When that thy pride shall have a fall,
Thy locks decrease to none at all;
When pale hath grown thy rosy cheek,
And dull become thy glance, and weak —
Whene'er thou gazest in the glass,
Then shalt thou, sighing, say: " Alas!
Why, when my heart was young and gay
Lacked I the wisdom of to-day?
Or, now that faltering is my step,
Why have I lost my pristine pep? "