I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'

I bear a burden that might well tryMen that do all by rule,And what can IThat am a wandering-witted foolBut pray to God that He easeMy great responsibilities?

I heard the old, old, men say "all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters

Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!

That is no country for old men. The youngIn one another's arms, birds in the trees --Those dying generations -- at their song.

How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.