You’re as wise as you are pretty 

When you say to me “Let go”

And when I think it a monstrous pity

That time passes, it’s daft I know

For though I remember the girls dependent

Young and vulnerable and small

And have regret, yet they’re resplendent

Now, grown up, attractive and tall

And I still have their lovely mother

To grace my days as I grow old

And feel ashamed I want it other

Than what it really is: pure gold

Yet! I cannot but remember such things were 

Being of childhood things a connoisseur

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