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