VOL. XLIX. NO. 2086. NEW YORK, JANUARY 18, i89o 
PRICE, FIVE CENTS. 
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rEntered According to Act of Congress in the Year 1890 by the Rural New-Yorker, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.J 
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PASSED OFF THE STAGE. 
JAMKS BUCKHAM. 
They say that I’ve “passed off the stage." Ah, well, 
It may be true; 
I’m not as strong as when I stood six feet, at thirty-two. 
I know I’m getting bent and old, my hair Is silver- 
gray: 
But oh, it's hard to hear It said, "The old man’s had 
his day.” 
II was not very tong aco—it scarcely seems a year— 
When I was strong a- yes 1 ling colt and fleeter than 
a deer; 
“PASSED OFF 
My arms were like the sinewy roots that thrust out 
from the oak. 
And I was straight as towering pine that tempts the 
woodman’s stroke. 
There wasn’t one in all the town (how sad the con¬ 
trast now!) 
Could mow a steadier stroke than I, or drive a 
stralghter plow. 
And even when my hair turned gray no whit my 
strength declined. 
I used to race the boys afield and leave them all be¬ 
hind. 
But now they bring the cushioned chair and set It In 
the sun, 
TWE STAGE.** 
And fetch me out my pipe and pouch, as soon as 
breakfast’s done, 
And bid me sit an hour or two—the day’ll be long 
and hot; 
And then they go and leave me there, unheeded and 
forgot. 
Sometimes I take my staff and creep along the 
orchard wall, 
But, weary, sit me down to rest where grateful shad¬ 
ows fall. 
Far off the meadows swim with heat; fresh smells the 
new-mown hay; 
But I can go no more afield, fori have “ had my day.” 
O God ! it is a weary thing to live an outworn life, 
To have no further lot or part In manly toil an 
strife; 
To know that all one's active day's have passed for¬ 
ever by, 
And all that now remains to do is just to restand— 
die. 
I don’t know why I dread it so—this “ passing off the 
stage,” 
Some folks think life is mighty hard, and long for 
smooth old age; 
But I had rather strive and toil till all my bones were 
sore, 
Thau to be sitting useless here before the farm 
house door. 
