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.
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