O youth, like sharp and biting winds of spring
Confounding thoughts and bringing sudden tears,
You taunt with glee your hidden thoughts and sing
Your songs; the music plays upon my fears.
With treachery you bind my soul
To passing things that linger not, but fly
Forever out of reach. My fancy rolls
With purpose on to nothing, then you cry
With facts that jeer, “You fool!” like stinging barbs.
“It is illusion.” You are not so kind.
You are the sun and though you warm my heart,
I gazed so long at you that I was blind;
And now I come to realize, O youth,
‘Tis you the fool, for you are passing, too.
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