One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.
One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.
On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare.
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories