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The imperfect picture o'er again；
With power to add； retouch； efface
The lights and shades； the joy and pain；
How little of the past would stay！
How quickly all should melt away …
All … but that Freedom of the Mind；
Which hath been more than wealth to me；
Those friendships； in my boyhood twined；
And kept till now unchangingly；
And that dear home； that saving…ark；
Where Love's true light at last I've found；
Cheering within； when all grows dark；
And comfortless； and stormy round！
Thomas Moore ＇1779…1852＇
SONNET
On His Having Arrived To The Age of Twenty…Three
How soon hath Time； the subtle thief of youth；
Stolen on his wing my three…and…twentieth year！
My hasting days fly on with full career；
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th。
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth
That I to manhood am arrived so near；
And inward ripeness doth much less appear；
That some more timely…happy spirits endu'th。
Yet； be it less or more； or soon or slow；
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot； however mean or high；
Toward which Time leads me； and the will of Heaven：
All is； if I have grace to use it so；
As ever in my great Task…master's eye。
John Milton ＇1608…1674＇
ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY…SIXTH YEAR
'Tis time this heart should be unmoved；
Since others it hath ceased to move：
Yet； though I cannot be beloved；
Still let me love！
My days are in the yellow leaf；
The flowers and fruits of love are gone；
The worm； the canker； and the grief
Are mine alone！
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle；
No torch is kindled at its blaze …
A funeral pile。
The hope； the fear； the jealous care；
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love； I cannot share；
But wear the chain。
But 'tis not thus … and 'tis not here …
Such thoughts should shake my soul； nor now；
Where glory decks the hero's bier；
Or binds his brow。
The sword； the banner； and the field；
Glory and Greece； around me see！
The Spartan； borne upon his shield；
Was not more free。
Awake！ （not Greece … she is awake！）
Awake； my spirit！ Think through whom
Thy life…blood tracks its parent lake；
And then strike home！
Tread those reviving passions down；
Unworthy manhood I … unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of beauty be。
If thou regret'st thy youth； why live？
The land of honorable death
Is here： … up to the field； and give
Away thy breath！
Seek out … less often sought than found …
A soldier's grave； for thee the best；
Then look around； and choose thy ground；
And take thy rest。
George Gordon Byron ＇1788…1824＇
GROWING GRAY
〃On a l'age de son caeur。〃
A。 D'Houdetot
A little more toward the light； …
Me miserable！ Here's one that's white；
And one that's turning；
Adieu to song and 〃salad days；〃
My Muse； let's go at once to Jay's；
And order mourning。
We must reform our rhymes； my Dear； …
Renounce the gay for the severe； …
Be grave； not witty；
We have； no more； the right to find
That Pyrrha's hair is neatly twined； …
That Chloe's pretty。
Young Love's for us a farce that's played；
Light canzonet and serenade
No more may tempt us；
Gray hairs but ill accord with dreams；
From aught but sour didactic themes
Our years exempt us。
Indeed！ you really fancy so？
You think for one white streak we grow
At once satiric？
A fiddlestick！ Each hair's a string
To which our ancient Muse shall sing
A younger lyric。
The heart's still sound。 Shall 〃cakes and ale〃
Grow rare to youth because we rail
At schoolboy dishes？
Perish the thought！ 'Tis ours to chant
When neither Time nor Tide can grant
Belief with wishes。
Austin Dobson ＇1840…1921＇
THE ONE WHITE HAIR
The wisest of the wise
Listen to pretty lies
And love to hear'em told。
Doubt not that Solomon
Listened to many a one； …
Some in his youth； and more when he grew old。
I never was among
The choir of Wisdom's song；
But pretty lies loved I
As much as any king；
When youth was on the wing；
And （must it then be told？） when youth had quite gone by。
Alas！ and I have not
The pleasant hour forgot
When one pert lady said；
〃O Walter！ I am quite
Bewildered with affright！
I see （sit quiet now） a white hair on your head！〃
Another more benign
Snipped it away from mine；
And in her own dark hair
Pretended it was found 。 。 。
She leaped； and twirled it round 。 。 。
Fair as she was； she never was so fair！
Walter Savage Landor ＇1775…1864＇
BALLADE OF MIDDLE AGE
Our youth began with tears and sighs；
With seeking what we could not find；
Our verses all were threnodies；
In elegiacs still we whined；
Our ears were deaf； our eyes were blind；
We sought and knew not what we sought。
We marvel； now we look behind：
Life's more amusing than we thought！
Oh； foolish youth； untimely wise！
Oh； phantoms of the sickly mind！
What？ not content with seas and skies；
With rainy clouds and southern wind；
With common cares and faces kind；
With pains and joys each morning brought？
Ah； old； and worn； and tired we find
Life's more amusing than we thought！
Though youth 〃turns spectre…thin and dies；〃
To mourn for youth we're not inclined；
We set our souls on salmon flies；
We whistle where we once repined。
Confound the woes of human…kind！
By Heaven we're 〃well deceived；〃 I wot；
Who hum； contented or resigned；
〃Life's more amusing than we thought〃！
ENVOY
O nate mecum； worn and lined
Our faces show； but that is naught；
Our hearts are young 'neath wrinkled rind：
Life's more amusing than we thought！
Andrew Lang ＇1844…1912＇
MIDDLE AGE
When that my days were fewer；
Some twenty years ago；
And all that is was newer；
And time itself seemed slow；
With ardor all impassioned；
I let my hopes fly free；
And deemed the world was fashioned
My playing…field to be。
The cup of joy was filled then
With Fancy's sparkling wine；
And all the things I willed then
Seemed destined to be mine。
Friends had I then in plenty；
And every friend was true；
Friends always are at twenty；
And on to twenty…two。
The men whose hair was sprinkled
With little flecks of gray；
Whose faded brows were wrinkled …
Sure they had had their day。
And though we bore no malice；
We knew their hearts were cold；
For they had drained their chalice；
And now were spent and old。
At thirty； we admitted；
A man may be alive；
But slower； feebler witted；
And done at thirty…five。
If Fate prolongs his earth…days；
His joys grow fewer still；
And after five more birthdays
He totters down the hill。
We were the true immortals
Who held the earth in fee；
For us were flung the portals
Of fame and victory。
The days were bright and breezy；
And gay our