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There's a new tribunal now Higher than God's—the educated man's!
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What's a man's age He must hurry more, that's all Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
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The moth's kiss, first! / Kiss me as if you made believe / You were not sure, this eve, / How my face, your flower, had pursed / Its petals up.
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If two lives join, there is oft a scar, / They are one and one, with a shadowy third; / One near one is too far.
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Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made:
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