Sprightly Old Age

Leigh Hunt

1784 to 1859

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Sprightly Old Age - Track 1

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When the sports of youth I see, 
Youth itself returns to me. 
Then indeed my old age springs, 
To the dance on starting wings.
Stop, Cybele, roses there, —
As befits a dancer's hair:
Grey-beard sloth away be flung;
And I'll join you, young for young,
Afterwards go fetch we wine,
Bounty of a fruit divine;
And I'll show what age can do,
Able still to warble too,
Able still to drink down sadness,
And display a graceful madness.