The Secrets of the Old

I have old women‘s secrets now

That had those of the young；

Madge tells me what I dared not think

When my blood was strong，

And what had drowned a lover once

Sounds like an old song.

Though Margery is stricken dumb

If thrown in Madge‘s way，

We three make up a solitude；

For none alive to-day

Can know the stories that we know

Or say the things we say：

How such a man pleased women most

Of all that are gone，

How such a pair loved many years

And such a pair but one，

Stories of the bed of straw

Or the bed of down.