Classic Poem

Not for me the budding girl
Or the maiden in full bloom,
Sure of beauty and of charm,
Careless of the distant doom,
Laughing in the face of years
That stretch out so long and far,
Mindful of the things to be,
Heedless of the things that are;

But the woman sweetly ripe,
Under the autumn of her skies;
Thin lines of care about her mouth,
And utterless longings in her eyes.