Youth and Age
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1772 to 1834
Track 1
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That may not rudely be dismist.
When I was young?—Ah, woful when!
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
This breathing house not built with hands,
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
This body that does me grievous wrong,
It cannot be, that Thou art gone!
When I was young!
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
O! the joys, that came down shower-like,
To make believe, that Thou art gone?
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I liv'd in't together.
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
What strange disguise hast now put on,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
When we are old:
But springtide blossoms on thy lips,
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
How lightly then it flashed along:—
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,
O Youth! for years so many and sweet
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
Both were mine! Life went a maying
Which tells me, Youth's no longer here!
That only serves to make us grieve
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
That only serves to make us grieve,
Life is but thought: so think I will
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
Ere I was old.
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:—
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
And tells the jest without the smile.
This drooping gait, this altered size:
That Youth and I are house-mates still.
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
I see these locks in silvery slips,
Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!
I'll think it but a fond conceit—
But the tears of mournful eve!