To Frances

Now of my threescore years and ten,

Not one will ever come again.

But Frances, lover, loves me still

Tho knowest she I'm o'er the hill.

And of my threescore years and ten,

Remember faintly now and then

How softly timeless time has tred

And left us smiling with no dread.

For of my threescore years and ten,

Remember brightly now and then,

None more richly blest were we

With Elizabeth, Daniel and family.

Wallace Baird

June 2006