Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/126

Rh 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.