Sixty-three summers have shone their light
How many more their fleeting memory will hold,
How many more warm summer breezes will I feel on a sunken cheek,
My little grandson a new and unaffected wondrous being,
His summers still before him. Born at summers end
Giggling and cooing as he meets his second summer
dancing on the breeze
Will fortune shine that I might see
some twenty-one summers more or not
But for the moment my joy doeth come
on a summer breeze laughing, caressing,
My sunken cheeks and thorny brow.
