At the tenth birthday all the world looks fair;
The twentieth scarcely shades it with a care;
At the third decade life soars grand and high;
But with the fourth its heyday passes by.
The fifth comes on,— a century's half is told;
The sixth,— our little girl is growing old.
Another half-score milestone passed, and then
We've reached the allotted three-score years and ten.
Years may be added; should they come to thee
May Faith and Wisdom their companion be;
Hope thy sure anchor; Peace with thee abide,
And Love still be thy light at eventide.