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Stephen Vincent Benet - Old Man Hoppergrass
Work rating: Low

Flesh, if you were stone or tree,
I`d be happier with ye.

When I was young, I slept like stone,
When I was young, I grew like tree.
Now I lie, abed, alone,
And I wonder if `tis me.

Wake at night and ease me
But it does not please me,
Stick I am, sick I am,
Apple pared to quick I am,
Woman-nursed and queer.
Once I had a sweet tooth,
A sharp tooth, a neat tooth,
Cocked my hat and winked my eye
As the pretty girls went by,
Pretty girls and punkin-pie—
Dear! oh, dear!

Old man`s a hoppergrass
Kicking in the wheat.

Can`t eat his fill,
Can`t drink his will,
Can`t climb his hill,
Can`t have his Jill.

And, when he talks sense,
Relations say,
"Better let Father
Haye his way."

A stone`s a stone
And a tree`s a tree,
But what was the sense
Of aging me?

It`s no improvement
That I can see.
And the night`s long
And the night-sleep brief
And I hear the rustle
Of the fallen leaf,
"Old man Hoppergrass,
Come and see!

Well, I won`t for a little,
Not while I`m me.

But the sun`s not as hot
As it used to be.
Source
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