The Old Man Dreams. FOR one hour of joyful youth! Give back my twentieth spring! I'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy, Than reign a gray-beard king! Off with the wrinkled spoils of age! One moment let my life-blood stream My listening angel heard the prayer, "But is there nothing in thy track While the swift seasons hurry back Ah, truest soul of womanhood! Without thee what were life? One bliss I cannot leave behind: And wrote in rainbow dew, "And is there nothing yet unsaid, Before the change appears? Remember, all their gifts have fled With those dissolving years!" Why, yes; for memory would recall My fond paternal oys; I could not bear to leave them all: The man would be a boy again, And so I laughed—my laughter woke Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, -Shakespeare. My nights are blessed with sweetest sleep; I feel no symptoms of decay, I have no cause to mourn nor weep; My foes are impotent and shy; My friends are neither false nor cold, And yet, of late, I often sigh, I'm growing old! My growing talk of olden times, My growing thirst for early news, My growing ap-hy to rhymes, My growing love of easy shoes, My growing hate of crowds and noise, I'm growing old. I'm growing fonder of my staff; I'm growing dimmer in the eyes; I'm growing fainter in my laugh; I'm growing deeper in my sighs; I'm growing careless of my dress; I'm growing frugal of my gold; I'm growing wise; I'm growing, yes, I'm growing old! I see it in my changing taste; I see it in my growing waist; Ah me! my very laurels breathe IF you would make the aged happy, lead them to feel that there is still a place for them where they can be useful. When you see their powers failing, do not notice it. It is enough for them to feel it without a reminder. Do not humiliate them by doing things after them. Accept their offered services, and do not let them see you taking off the dust their poor eyesight has left undisturbed, or wiping up the liquid their trembling hands have spilled; rather let the dust remain, and the liquid stain the carpet, than rob them of their self-respect by seeing you cover their deficiencies. You may give them the best room in your house, you may garnish it with pictures and flowers, you may yield them the best seat in your churchpew, the easiest chair in your parlor, the highest seat of honor at your table; but if you lead or leave them to feel that they have passed their usefulness, you plant a thorn in their bosom that will rankle there while life lasts. If they are capable of doing nothing but preparing your kindlings, that it is because they can do nothing else; rather that they do this so well. Do not ignore their taste and judgment. It may be that in their early days, and in the circle where they moved, they were as much sought and honored as you are now; and until you arrive at that place, you can ill imagine your feelings should you be considered entirely void of these qualities, be regarded as essential to no one, and your opinions be unsought, or discarded if given. They may have been active and successful in the training of children and youth in the way they should go; and will they not feel it keenly, if no attempt is made to draw from this rich experience? or darning your stockings, indulge them in those things, but never let them feel Indulge them as far as possible in their old habits. The various forms of society in which they were educated may be as dear to them as yours are now to you; and can they see them slighted or disowned without a pang? If they relish their meals better by turning their tea into the saucer, having their butter on the same plate with their food, or eating with both knife and fork, do not in word or deed imply to them that the customs of their days are obnoxious in good society; and that they are stepping down from respectability as they descend the hillside of life. Always bear in mind that the customs of which you are now so tenacious may be equally repugnant to the next generation. In this connection I would say, do not notice the pronunciation of the aged. They speak as they were taught, and yours may be just as uncourtly to the generations following. I was once taught a lesson on this subject, which I shall never forget while memory holds its sway. I was dining, where a father brought his son to take charge of a literary institution. He was intelligent, but had not received the early advantages which he had labored hard to procure for his son; and his language was quite a contrast to that of the cultivated youth. But the attention and deference he gave to his father's quaint though wise remarks, placed him on a higher pinnacle in my mind, than he was ever placed by his world-wide reputation as a scholar and writer. |