Silver and Roses, Henna and Myrrh

 

 

To Thy Youth

 

Upon antiquity when childhood’s gold

Sheds faintly that fair luster it once wore

And muted tones proclaim from annals old

The oath of glory paling time forswore,

When balusters lay tumbled in the sea,

Fall’n down from councils’ venerable halls,

And echo forth the elder elegy

That latter days with awe astonished palls,

When mold’ring temples crumble in the Sun

And roses pressed in books turn into dust,

When Clotho her last filament has spun

And gold itself, like iron, turns to rust,

Thou still would’st live, enshrinéd in the fane

Undying my heart keeps in God’s domain.

 

 

                        Thursday, January 30, 1969

 

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