The Inn of Dreams/In Praise of Youth
In Praise of Youth
O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sungWhile yet my heart is young . . .While Life and I, in search of lovely things,Go out with dancing feet and dreaming eyes,And find wild Folly, with her rainbow wings,Sweeter than all the wisdom of the wise.
O delicate Youth, thy praises shall be sungWhile yet my heart is young . . .Thy whiteness, and thy brightness, and the sweetFlushed softness of thy little restless feet . . .The tossed and sunny tangle of thy hair, Thy swiftness, slimness, shyness, simpleness,That set the old folk sighing for the rareRed rose of Joy thy careless days possess.
. . . And when at last, with sad, indifferent face,I walk in narrow pathways patiently;Forgetful of thy beauty, and thy truth,Thy ringing laughter, thy rebellious grace . . .When fair Love turns his face away from me . . .Then, let me die, O delicate sweet Youth!