The Old Lady

A sad poem about a couple’s love growing old, and both doing nothing to save or confront it.

The honeymoon is over now,
The glamour of the wedding tour
Has rubbed and tarnished, very much
Like tapestry of gay velours.
She weeps no more because he fails
To kiss her when he says good-by;
He calls her his “old lady” now--
Of course that is the reason why.

She used to say her married life
Would never lose its primal charm
Like lovers they would always be,
The prosy life was fraught with harm,
But times have changed; she’s settled down,
The dull and prosy days are night’
He call her his “old lady” now--
Of course that is the reason why

Sometimes he wonders, too, why she
No longer meets him at the door;
And gives a kissing welcome, as
She used to do in days of yore,
He feels they’re getting in a rut,
The good old days are slipping by;
He calls her his “old lady” now--
Of course that is the reason why,
He means no disrespect, and yet
To her it has a grating sound;
And oft she thinks, perhaps, that he
Is tired of having her around,
She feels his love is growing cold,
A fact he’s certain to deny;
He calls her his “old lady” now,
That seems to be the reason why.
--Detroit Free Press

“The Old Lady,” Black Virginia: The Richmond Planet, 1894-1909, accessed March 21, 2025, https://blackvirginia.richmond.edu/items/show/127.