A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.

Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?

by Ogden Nash

Comments (3)

Remember how beautifully mysterious This world was? The stars had joy Engraved on their shiny bright bodies The sun was a warm blanket And the rain was tender and smooth...memories....... poetic lines full of joy and beauty. tony
It's funny how all life's inevitables are the most daunting experience Like growth and death. This poem deserve 10+++ life was said to be a crystal stair a paved footpath under a galaxy of stars Perhaps a holiday in Mauritius Now I want to be five again
Oh my, how things have changed. Thanks for sharing. Nicely penned.