Classic Poem

Love in his mellowing year draws us all on
Who once were buds and shoots and fragile flowers;
His seasons pass; unnoticeably grown,
We yet abide the dictate of his hours;
And some, alas, in early spring decayed:
Some by an evil blight, or damp, or drought,
Their vigorous hoped-for beauty have delayed,
And some their strength unseasonably put out;
Yet love abides: that we may bloom in joy,
Waft his rich honeyed breath upon the air,
Grow ripe in wisdom as the hours destroy
Those lustrous petals flowers in summer wear,
And at the last give back to grateful earth
Promise of richer joy and ampler birth.