Youth cocks his hat and rides up the street.
Age cocks his eye only to see it.

Youth puts his horse at a five-barred gate.
Age chuckles grimly and sits down to wait.

Youth limps by with a broken-kneed horse.
Age, through the shutters, mutters " Of course! "

Youth curses Fate for his splitting head.
Age lights the candle and hobbles to bed.