In Days to Come

In days to come--whatever ache
Of age shall rack our bones, or quake
Our slackened thews--whatever grip
Rheumatic catch us i' the hip,--
We, each one, for the other's sake,
Will of our very wailings make
Such quips of song as well may shake
The spasm'd corners from the lip--
In days to come.

Ho! ho! how our old hearts shall rake
The past up!--how our dry eyes slake
Their sight upon the dewy drip
Of juicy-ripe companionship,
And blink stars from the blind opaque--
In days to come.