Old And Young

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!”