Too Soon

Too Soon Do very youthful men and women fret About the ill success of dreams they’ve dreamt? They barely have begun to even whet Their lust for life! I think they are exempt a mere while yet from lessons to be learnt. They’ll bill and coo before spring season’s spent. Then soon, and summer-touched, they will be burnt. And finally, they’ll look back and lament how weariness, like fog, has come to fall upon them from a drizzly sky once gold with April’s hope and not November’s pall. Beneath Spring’s gilded skies, their growing old is but a road stretched far in front of them. Too soon will come cold winter’s requiem. (Below is the poem that inspired it) “Age” by Sara Teasdale Brooks sing in the spring And in the summer cease; I who sang in my youth Now hold my peace; Youth is a noisy stream Chattering over the ground. But the sad wisdom of age Wells up without a sound.