I WAS still a child
Till I came to you,
Child-eyes, child-heart,
Child-lips all too true;

I went silently,
With all-wondering eyes . . .
'She is old,' they said,
'She is grave and wise.'

Came your touch that burned
Eyes and lips and heart;
There were no more dreams
I could spin, apart:

Now my lips are gay
And my heart untold;
'She is young,' they say . . .
I am old– am old!