At fifty once more, babies play round my knee. Again we know children, my loved one and me. Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead, I look at the future, and I shudder with dread. For my young ones are all busy, rearing young of their own, and I think of the years and the love I have known. I'm an old woman now, and nature is cruel.
Nature makes old age look like such a fool.
The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart. There is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells. And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living life all over again.