Youth and Age

"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth, one day,
To drooping Age, who crest his way.—
"It is a sunny hour of play,
"For which repentance dear doth pay;
  "Repentance! Repentance!
"And this is Love, as wise men say."
"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth once more,
Fearful, yet fond, of Age's lore.—
"Soft as a passing summer's wind,
"Wouldst know the blight it leaves behind?
  "Repentance! Repentance!
"And this is Love—when love is o'er."

"Tell me, what's Love? "said Youth again,
Trusting the bliss, but not the pain.
"Sweet as a May tree's scented air—
"Mark ye what bitter fruit 'twill bear,
  "Repentance! Repentance!
"This, this is Love—sweet Youth, beware."

Just then, young Love himself came by,
And cast on Youth a smiling eye;
Who could resist that glance's ray?
In vain did Age his warning say,
  "Repentance! Repentance!"
Youth laughing went with Love away.