From The Standard Book of British & American Verse, selected by Nella BradyLET ME GROW LOVELY
"Let me grow lovely, growing old --
So many fine things do;
Laces, and ivory , and gold,
And silks need not be new;
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?"
A poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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