Classic Poem

O keep a little longer far away,
Ye hurrying months, onrushing, and ye years;
Touch not our temples with your saddening gray,
Give us some time for smiling through our tears!
Keep from our locks your devastating shears;
And if we must forget, ah, well-a-day!
Let us forget old sorrows and old fears,
And let our hearts remember but the May.

Ah, age, dread age, how little dost thou bring!
E'en as far off thou com'st, thy presence fills
The soul with apprehension of thine ills:—
Cold strips of life left to us, lingering.
Like those drear streaks of Winter seen in Spring—
Soiled snowdrifts on the northern side of hills.