Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/23



When leaning on the staff, Amid the crowded street, With feeble step and wrinkled face, Some aged form I meet.

However poor and weak, Or ignorant and low, I must respect those hoary hairs, For God has told me so.

I love to see the hair All venerably grey; A crown of glory 't is to those Who walk in Wisdom's way.

I love the reverend head, With years and honors white, 'T is like the ripen'd fruit of heav'n,    And angels bless the sight.