Author H. A. Giles My whitening hair would make a long long rope, Yet could not fathom all my depth of woe; Though how it comes within a mirror's scope To sprinkle autumn frosts, I do not know. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments