LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, -Come and play with me!�

But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height
I was fain to climb before the night;
So, half-impatient, I answered, -Nay!
I am too old, too old to play.�

Long, long after, in Autumn time-
My limbs were grown too old to climb-
I passed a child on a pleasant lea,
And I called to her, -Come and play with me!�

But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book;
And scarce she lifted a wondering look,
As with childish scorn she answered, -Nay!
I am too old, too old to play!�