Classic Poem

Let us love while life is young,
And the vital stream is glowing;
When the heart is newly strung,
And the tide of health is flowing.

Let us pluck the Paphian rose,
When its bud is first unfolding;
Ere its withered petals close,
In the misty darkness moulding.

Pluck it, when the morning dew
Twinkles on the new-blown flower,
And the vernal sky of blue
Opens through the melting shower.

Pluck it, when the air is sweet,
And the winds no more are chilling;
When the loving swallows meet,
And the soft-eyed doves are billing.

Weave it in a wreath of bloom,
Let it bind our hearts together;
Now when life is all perfume,
Warm and bright as April weather;

Now when life is dancing on,
Like a brook, where flowers are blowing,
Curling upward to the sun,
Or in mirrored beauty flowing;

Ere those waving locks of jet,
By the touch of age, are thinning,
While the cheek is blooming yet,
And the eye is bright and winning.

Love in life's delightful spring, —
You will find returning passion;
Wait till youth has taken wing, —
Love will then be out of fashion.

If you have a bosom bright
Longer than the form around it,
Beauty never will requite
Love like that, but only wound it.