With years a richer life begins, the spirit mellow: ripe age gives tones to violins, wine, and good fellows.

Not in rewards, but in the strength to strive, the blessing lies.

Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach.

With years a richer life begins, the spirit mellow: ripe age gives tones to violins, wine, and good fellows.

For me the diamond dawns are set In rings of beauty.

The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he with a grin, That the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be?

We are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank and starved together.