WE have left our youth behind:
Earth is in its baby years:
Void of wisdom cries the wind,
And the sunlight knows no tears.
When shall twilight feel the awe,
All the rapt thought of the sage,
And the lips of wind give law
Drawn from out their lore of age?
When shall earth begin to burn
With such love as thrills my breast?
When shall we together turn
To our long, long home for rest?
Child and father, we grow old
While you laugh and play with flowers;
And life’s tale for us is told
Holding only empty hours.
Giant child, on you await
All the hopes and fears of men.
In thy fulness is our fate—
What till then, oh, what till then?
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