I’m too old to paint in tempera, takes too long to dry.
I’m too young to sculpt a headstone, since I won’t soon die.
I’m too old to swim the channel, don’t like being cold and wet.
I’m too young to drown in sorrow with so little to regret.
I’m too old to chase maidens through spring fields anew.
Though now the times just right to share all I have with you.