Let 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?

by Karle Wilson Baker

Other poems of BAKER (13)

Comments (4)

Lovely... thoughts of the wordings are very vivid.
A beautiful and thought provoking desire incorporated in a sweet song with little flight of imagery.
lovely; For it has hammered loud enough, Clamored enough, when all is said: Only its quiet part shall live When I am dead.
..........a wonderful poem....to be as lovely as a tree would be a dream...