Greater life hath no man than this:
that an old man lies down in love
with an old lady friend.

For passion to soar so high
When skin, it droops so low:
What great life you have, my dear!

80 years, you passed without me
80 years, I’ll never know.

So much faith it takes to meet her
When all’s soon drawing to a close—
All the poets being wrong.

But of your lovely life so grand:
That I may have a slice so small!
To fall in love with you, my dear.

80 years, I do not know you
And in a few years, we’ll be gone.

Greater life hath no man than this.