When we are old and these rejoicing veins Are frosty channels to a muted stream, And out of all our burning there remains No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream, This be our solace: that it was not said When we were young and warm and in our prime, Upon our couch we lay as lie the dead, Sleeping away the unreturning time.
![When we are old and these rejoicing veins Are frosty channels to When we are old and these rejoicing veins Are frosty channels to Image](https://www.idlehearts.com/images/when-we-are-old-and-these-rejoicing-veins--are-frosty-channels-to.jpg?x85372)