Mildred Plew Merryman

TWO old women live in our street:

One is sour and the other is sweet.

Here is a secret hid in youth:

Young lips and eyes may mask the truth,

But wrinkled faces hold the print—

Coins they are that speak their mint.

Youth is a spicy potpourri—

None may guess what the contents be;

But old folk all must come to an hour

When they turn quite plainly sweet or sour.