Y For Youth

Would I had met you in my days of strength,

Before my tide of life had turned, my love;

These lightning streaks, that come in fitful starts,

Are not the great forked lightnings you deserve;

Too many silver moons has my life worn

Into an old thin rim, since I was born.

What you deserve are those enchanted notes

We sing in dreams at night; so pure and sweet

That kings and queens sit down with bended heads,

And listen with their crowns laid at their feet:

Those songs that pass, without a voice on Earth,

And perish in the brain that gives them birth.