I used to think that grown-up people chose
 To have stiff backs and wrinkles round their nose,
 And veins like small fat snakes on either hand,
 On purpose to be grand.
 Till through the banister I watched one day
 My great-aunt Etty's friend who was going away,
 And how her onyx beads had come unstrung.
 I saw her grope to find them as they rolled;
 And then I knew that she was helplessly old,
 As I was helplessly young.