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.