Playtime.
Reading edition
Old age is the time to watch and pray, And to prepare for the coming day. Your workday is over—rest and be glad, This is your playtime—do not be sad. Your hair is turned from brown to gray, And the little ringlets softly play. And hold a wee dear one close to your heart, Singing a lullaby—this is your part. And see the blue smoke curl over your head From your golden meerschaum; gladness doth shed. And the song of the birds, again spring is here, Bringing to all the time we hold dear. And old recollections your memory doth fill, Of youth, full of fire—you remember still. And the dear ones around you, full of love, Are preparing the way to Heaven above.