When you are old and gray and full of sleep- br And the morning light breaks upon the hill- br Your weary bones creak with the havoc of arising- br Breaking the absolute of earlys morns still; br br The stillness breaks the world awake- br As our gray fights to overcome infirmity- br Morning eggs stir yellow upon this stove of life- br And saves our sinews from utter calamity; br br We move our sleepy bodies ever slowly- br Tired bones but awaiting the noontime sun- br Gray and old we manage our steps in frail paces- br As we do when day has finally begun; br br A heaviness envelopes in late afternoon- br Four P.M.