Times past, when medieval woods were green,
    Babes were betrothed, and that betrothal brief.
    Remember Romeo in love and grief—
Those star-crossed lovers—Juliet was fourteen.

Times past, the caveman by his new-found fire
    Rested beside his mate in woodsmoke’s scent.
    By our own fireside we shall rest content
Fifty years hence keep troth with hearts desire.

We shall remember, when our hair is white,
These clouded days revealed in radiant light.