Neither!

So ancient to myself I seem,     I might have crossed grave Styx's stream     A year ago; -     My word, 'tis so; -     And now be wandering with my sires     In that rare world we wonder o'er,     Half disbelieve, and prize the more!     Yet spruce I am, and still can mix     My wits with all the sparkling tricks,     A youth and girl     At twenty's whirl     Play round each other's bosom fires,     On this brisk earth I once enjoyed: -     But now I'm otherwise employed!     Am I a thing without a name;     A sort of dummy in the game?     "Not young, not old:"     A world is told     Of misery in that lengthened phrase;     Yet, gad, although my coat be smooth,     My forehead's wrinkled, - that's the truth!     I hardly know which road to go.     With youth? Perhaps. With age? Oh no!     Well, then, with those     Who share my woes,     Doomed to mere fashionable ways, -     Fair matrons, cigarettes, and tea,     Sighs, mirrors, and society?     Is it a folly still to twirl,     And smirk and promenade and querl     About the town?     I'll put this down:     A man becomes downright blast     Before he knows that he is either     That, or what I am - call it, "Neither."     Oh, for a hint what we shall do,     We bucks whose comedy is through!     Who'd be sedate?     And yet I hate     To pose persistently to-day     As one just trying flights, you know,     When I did try them long ago!     Suppose I hurry up the tide     Of age, and bravely drift beside     Those hoary dogs     Who lie like logs     Around the clubs where life is hushed?     My blood runs cold! What? Say farewell     To this year's new bewildering belle!     Hold, man, the secret broad and huge,     With every well-known subterfuge!     If bald and gray     And thin, still say     You're only thirty: don't be crushed;     But when your voice shakes o'er a pun,     Be off to China: - your day's done!