And my father!-oh, my father! evil is it with his daughter, when his grey hairs are not remembered because of the golden locks of youth!
And my father!-oh, my father! evil is it with his daughter, when his grey hairs are not remembered because of the golden locks of youth!
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.
Thus pleasures fade away Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, And leave us dark, forlorn, and gray.
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories