Morris Bishop

From “With the A. E. F.”

YOUTH is for madness, youth is for dreams and visions,

Youth is for earnest folly and monstrous play:

So say the sages, so say the wise old warriors,

And so do also the twitch-lipped satyrs say.

Youth is a thoughtless laugh in a house of mourning,

A burst of sun on a chill rain-sodden day:

So say the gaunt-faced priests and the hooded sophists,

So also the sidelong-beckoning satyrs say.

Youth is a rose to be plucked and crushed to the nostrils,

For in an hour it is utterly blown away:

So say the minstrels, so say the wistful ancients,

So too the unclean satyrs say.