Volume I Part 76 (1/2)

THE BREAKING The Lord G.o.d Speaks To A Youth

Bend now thy body to the common weight: (But oh, that vine-clad head, those limbs of morn!

Those proud young shoulders, I myself made straight!

How shall ye wear the yoke that must be worn?)

Look thou, my son, what wisdom comes to thee: (But oh, that singing mouth, those radiant eyes!

Those dancing feet--that I myself made free!

How shall I sadden them to make them wise?)

Nay, then, thou shalt! Resist not--have a care!

(Yea, I must work my plans who sovereign sit; Yet do not tremble so! I cannot bear-- Though I am G.o.d--to see thee so submit!)

Margaret Steele Anderson [1869-1921]

THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH

There are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain: But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes something from our hearts, And it never comes again.

We are stronger, and are better, Under manhood's sterner reign: Still we feel that something sweet Followed youth, with flying feet, And will never come again.

Something beautiful is vanished, And we sigh for it in vain: We behold it everywhere, On the earth, and in the air, But it never comes again.

Richard Henry Stoddard [1825-1903]

”DAYS OF MY YOUTH”

Days of my youth, Ye have glided away; Hairs of my youth, Ye are frosted and gray; Eyes of my youth, Your keen sight is no more; Cheeks of my youth, Ye are furrowed all o'er; Strength of my youth, All your vigor is gone; Thoughts of my youth, Your gay visions are flown.

Days of my youth, I wish not your recall; Hairs of my youth, I'm content ye should fall; Eyes of my youth, You much evil have seen; Cheeks of my youth, Bathed in tears have you been; Thoughts of my youth, You have led me astray; Strength of my youth, Why lament your decay?

Days of my age, Ye will shortly be past; Pains of my age, Yet awhile ye can last; Joys of my age, In true wisdom delight; Eyes of my age, Be religion your light; Thoughts of my age, Dread ye not the cold sod; Hopes of my age, Be ye fixed on your G.o.d.

St. George Tucker [1752-1827]

AVE ATQUE VALE

Farewell my Youth! for now we needs must part, For here the paths divide; Here hand from hand must sever, heart from heart,-- Divergence deep and wide.

You'll wear no withered roses for my sake, Though I go mourning for you all day long, Finding no magic more in bower or brake, No melody in song.