Youth

Within a primrose wood I lay content

Upon a certain blithe blue day of spring,

And ever near, my lover came or went

And gathering violets ever did she sing

So fair she was I laughed for love,

and cried "Still can I see how yesterday you stood,

Your whole fair frame rejoicing in its pride

And lovelier than the whole spring-lovely wood!"

Ah then she paused, and coming where I sat

Smiled, and with one dear hand upon my head

"O Love, my love, may you remember that

When I am no more beautiful," she said.