Threescore years and ten-a life to most,
To thee perennial youth through flying hours ;
Time gives thee Age's wisdom, Youth's bright powers.
A veteran standing firm at Duty's post,
For years a score the chieftain of our host;
By upland steeps, by shady greenwood bowers,
Where Muses pour their song in sunny showers,
Thou shinest and shalt shine, our pride, our boast.
We lay upon thy brow a fadeless wreath,
Love's glowing roses twined with steadfast truth.
Years fleet, but leave thy spirit sweetly strung
Like full-toned lyre; the silver-crusted sheath
Of Age scarce hides the flashing steel of Youth ;
Others grow old with years, and leave thee young.