CALL ME ANYTHING BUT OLD.
Years, perhaps, are creeping on me, Ysars that mark me for their own ; : Friends of former days desert me, Leave me more and more alone. Still, I fear not all their lessons, Time, of course, is more than gold ; Only this I plead, in mercy, Call me anything but old.
Call me fool, or rake, or swindler, Say I'm known to deathless shame, Say I've sold my dearest friendships. Won a dark and blighted name. Point your finger slowly at me, Tell my crimes, and I'll be bold. Xever will yon see me flinching, So you do not call me old. Scandal is but worldly water, Kolling from one's back away, Taunts and jibes, if boldly laughed at, Lesser grow from day to day ; But there is one dread invective Against which no shield is gold — Man is helpless, humble, cringing, If you only call him old. Therefore, when you see I'm youthful,.. Blithe and pleasant in my ways, Life enjoy as well as ever, Dwell with glee on other days : Strike me down with sword or bludgeon. Blast with heat or chill with cold, Heap abuse in torrents on me, Call me anything but old.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TO18850131.2.34
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Observer, Volume 7, Issue 229, 31 January 1885, Page 10
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201CALL ME ANYTHING BUT OLD. Observer, Volume 7, Issue 229, 31 January 1885, Page 10
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