Classic Poem

When we are young, our days are like
The fountain-waves that flow in June,
That sparkle in the golden sun,
Or gleam beneath the silver moon.
When we are old, our moments glide
Like Winter waters cold and drear,
That freeze before December's voice
Has sighed the death-note of the year.

When we are young, the clouds around
Our path have hues of glory on,
Like those which sleep on Summer skies
Before the crimson flush is gone.
When we are old, no ray concealed
Within the folded vapor lies,
But gloomy shadows overspread
The circle of Life's evening skies.

Oh then, since with the hours that fade
Our being's light is fading too,
How shall we find a hope to cheer
When we to youth must bid adieu.
In heaven, and not on earth, there glows
A sun whose pure and perfect ray
Will warm the freezing waves of life
And change its twilight into day.