To Critics
When i was seventeen I heard
From each censorious tongue,
“I ’d not do that if I were you;
You see you ’re rather young.”
Now that I number forty years,
I ’m quite as often told
Of this or that I should n’t do
Because I ’m quite too old.
O carping world! If there ’s an age
Where youth and manhood keep
An equal poise, alas! I must
Have passed it in my sleep.