Classic Poem

THE SEVENTEENTH SUMMER

Alas! the seventeenth summer comes and goes,
And still with undiminished heat I burn;
Yet of this heart my anxious eyes discern
How winter rimes it, though the red flame glows.
They tell the truth: " Till Habit change her hose
Years bleach the hair." The veins feel summer turn
To snow, though not less hard the passions churn
Against the flesh, no less flames winter's rose.
Ah, speed the sparkling day when, no more flayed
With the fierce dooms and furious ecstasies,
I may remark, amid tranquillities,
How fugitive youth! Ah, shall that hour be stayed
When with delight, in honour and heart's ease,
These eyes may look on that face undismayed?