Now and Then
By Charles Bertram Johnson
“All life is built from song”
In youth’s young morn I sang;
And from a top-near hill
The echo broke and rang.
The years with pinions swift
To youth’s high noon made flight,
“All life is built from song”
I sang amid the fight.
To life’s sun-setting years,
My feet have come—Alas!
And through its hopes and fears
Again I shall not pass.
The lusty song my youth
With high-heart ardor sang
Is but a tinkling sound—
A cymbal’s empty clang.
And now I sing, my Dear,
With wisdom’s wiser heart,
“All life is built from love,
And song is but a part.”
About the Poem
When did you first realize that you had gotten older?
For me, it happened when I received an email from a young Marine. He addressed me as Sir and kept referring to me as Mr. ________. I know he was only being polite—showing respect as Marines are trained to do—but it stopped me in my tracks. That single word, Sir, carried a weight I hadn’t quite felt before. It wasn’t the formality that struck me, but the realization that I’d somehow become the older person in the conversation.
I’m the oldest person at the museum now, and though I have friends who are older, most of the people around me are younger—college students with endless energy and a sense that life stretches far ahead of them. I work with them every day, and I see in them the same bright spark I once had. Over the past year, especially with my health issues, I’ve come to accept what I used to quietly resist: I am middle-aged. Not just in years, but in how others see me—and in how I’m beginning to see myself.
Charles Bertram Johnson’s “Now and Then” captures that awareness of time’s passage with both poignancy and grace. It traces a journey from youth’s exuberant song to the quiet wisdom of later years. The refrain that begins as “All life is built from song” evolves into something deeper: “All life is built from love.” Johnson reminds us that while youthful joy may fade, it transforms into something richer—an understanding shaped by love, endurance, and perspective.
In the gay community, that realization often feels even sharper. We live in a culture that idolizes youth—smooth skin, perfect bodies, the illusion that desire belongs only to the young. But aging brings its own kind of beauty, one rooted in truth rather than performance. When we let go of chasing who we were, we can begin to appreciate who we are.
My youth may have left nearly twenty years ago, but it left behind something far more lasting: gratitude. The song may sound softer now, but perhaps that’s because it’s finally being sung with love.
About the Poet
Charles Bertram Johnson (1880–1956) was an American poet whose work appeared in the early decades of the 20th century. Though little is known about his life, his poetry often explores the quiet transitions of aging, the nature of love, and the search for meaning in ordinary experience. In poems like “Now and Then,” Johnson captures the gentle shift from youthful exuberance to mature reflection, reminding us that the truest songs of life are often those sung softly in its later years.
Joe
The Closet Professor 
October 21st, 2025 at 6:59 am
Lovely poem. Not sure just when I “first realized” I had gotten older. My mind still tells me that I’m 25, but the mirror and my body tells me that’s a lie. This past Saturday, my cousins threw me the first family birthday party I’ve ever had. (I was born, grew up, and still live 2000+ miles away from my blood relatives.) Eleven cousins and two of their friends gathered at the river–the Little Kanawha in Parkersburg, West Virginia, to celebrate, a day late, my 76th birthday. I was not the oldest person there, but the youngest was 3. Five generations of us all together. It was a wonderful day filled with love.
October 21st, 2025 at 7:31 pm
Can’t really identify when I first realized or thought of myself as “old”. For the most part I don’t see myself as old, definitely not as old as I am. Maybe part of that is that many place me 10, perhaps even 15, years younger than I really am.
Once in a while something, usually my making a comment that only someone old enough to remember from the late 70s or 80s would really remember or understand, triggers thoughts of “wow! how is it 2025 and I’m ____? how did that happen!?“
A friend recently commented about a piece of farm equipment being an antique. I cautioned her about calling things “antique“, pointing out that while some of my farm equipment is a decade or two older, that specific piece of equipment was manufactured in the 70s and both her & I remember at least a few years of the 70s even if we were just kids…. & I’m not an antique! Not yet anyway.
In that friends defense, she was actually referencing how simple those old machines were made as compared to modern things, and she was actually referencing how intriguing and fascinating the old-time ingenuity is.
I can accept that. I hope that I see and experience life from a much more simpler view… & that maybe I hold some “old time” intrigue and fascination for someone to discover.
October 25th, 2025 at 7:06 pm
The only time I realize that I may be old is when my knee starts acting up. No one when they find out I am 79 believes me. Well I say, many times I forget just how old I am. I work at a university and love being around younger working class people. Keep me on my toes and when it is story time they stand with their mouths open to hear about my life. I came out moved to NYC in 1966 and then on to California with my new boyfriend. During one period of my life I stuck out my thumb and went wherever I needed to go. I have been very involved with the LGBTQI+movement and still am. I also do quite a bit of work on Connecticut LGBTQI+Ourstories researching and working on people in the movement giving their archives to the university Equity and Diversity Collection. A real coup happened just the other week when the total archives and tapes from the Gay Spirit Radio going strong since 1980 are soon to enter the collection. So old? I have no time for that, I have no time to be bored, I have no time to sit back and think about when I was so much younger and men desired me. My pet project now is reading about the history of resistance to Fascism around the world and how this can be applied to today. What compasses and weapons can we find to use. What worked and what didn’t. How do we in the U.S as queer people face this threat from the present administration? So old well today I worked all day putting the garden to bed, composting, washing flower pots and stones, cleaning soil. Old ha it had better keep away from me.
Love your site Joe.
October 25th, 2025 at 7:46 pm
That is so inspiring. Thank you. I’ve had a tough day with depression, and this made my day.