Hours of Youth
The Poet knows his light burns eternal
Has dealt the world-- Love, his handy Trump card
Youth struck by love we age Oh! infernal
In bloom the chase the glory of the bard
When we are naught but glories of our past
And the plump gourds all but mould and wither
Small black mirrors in their eye’s we last
And the final light we seek go thither
And the rose petals demur Times request,
The laurels we earned, the longings all fade
Taught skin, ambition lieth down at Ages behest
And cincture of fact is lost long-loves gaze
New charms bloom sun n ’Nature to tear asunder
As we prepare for the dark deep slumber
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