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Title: Sexagenarius Loquitur
Author: Arthur Conan Doyle [ More Titles by Doyle]
From our youth to our age We have passed each stage In old immemorial order, From primitive days Through flowery ways With love like a hedge as their border. Ah, youth was a kingdom of joy, And we were the king and the queen, When I was a year Short of thirty, my dear, And you were just nearing nineteen. But dark follows light And day follows night As the old planet circles the sun; And nature still traces Her score on our faces And tallies the years as they run. Have they chilled the old warmth in your heart? I swear that they have not in mine, Though I am a year Short of sixty, my dear, And you are well, say thirty-nine.
[The end] Arthur Conan Doyle's poem: Sexagenarius Loquitur ________________________________________________
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