When Silver Threads are Gold Again

by Eben Eugene Rexford

You tell me we are growing old,
And show the silver in your hair,
Whence time has stolen all the gold,
That made your youthful tresses fair;
But years can never steal away
The love that never can grow old.
So what care we for tresses gray,—
Since love will always keep its gold.
Oh, darling, I can read today,
The question in your thoughtful eyes;
You wonder if I long for May,—
Beneath the autumn's frosty skies.
Oh, love of mine, be sure of this:
For me no face could be so fair
As this one that I stoop to kiss
Beneath its crown of silver hair.
Oh, darling, though your step grows slow,
And time has furrowed well your brow,
And all June's roses hide in snow,
You never were so dear as now.
Oh, truest, tend'rest heart of all,
Lean on me when you weary grow,
As days, like leaves of autumn, fall
About the feet that falter so.
Oh, darling, with your hand in mine,
We'll journey all life's pathway through,
With happy tears your dear eyes shine
Like sweet blue blossoms in the dew.
The sorrows of the passing years
Have made us love each other more,
And every day that disappears
I count you dearer than before.
Oh, love, I tell you with a kiss,
If heav'n gives back the youth we miss
Your face will be no fairer then
When silver threads are gold again.