Age is not always given with gray hair
Nor youth encompassed in the fewest years;
Since doubt and pain with their attendant tears
Are dauntless etchers of the lines of care;
Youth is most present in the joys we share
As swift or slow the season disappears, —
The verve, the gladness which puts by all fears,
The hopes we nourish and the smiles we wear.

I think of you as always being young
Untouched by Sorrow and unworn by Time,
Spring's blossoms opening in your tender smile;
Like her of whom the elder Bards have sung,
Chanting her praise in many a noble rhyme —
Like Cleopatra by Egyptian Nile.