He seems To have seen better days, as who has not Who has seen yesterday? - Lord Byron

There' s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away,
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay.

But I being fond of true philosophy,
Say very often to myself, 'Alas!
All things that have been born were born to die,
And flesh (which Death mows down to hay) is grass;
You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantly,
And if you had it o'er again — 't would pass — So thank your stars that matters are no worse,
And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse.

By day or night, in weal or woe, That heart, no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show, And silent ache for thee.