Now that the April of your youth adorns The garden of your face, Now that for you each knowing lover mourns, And all seek to your grace. Do not repay affection with scorns. What though you may a matchless beauty vaunt, And that all hearts can move, By such a power, as seemeth to enchant? Yet, without help of love, Beauty no pleasure to itself can grant. Then think each minute that you lose, a day; The longest youth is short, The shortest age is long; Time flies away, And makes us but his sport, And that which is not Youth's, is Age's prey. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPLAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE JOURNEY ONWARDS by THOMAS MOORE DOG AND CAT by RUTH ANDERSON BARNETT TO HIS DEAR FRIEND MR. JOHN EMELY by WILLIAM BOSWORTH THE ENDLESS BATTLE by BERTON BRALEY DREAM OF LIFE by MARY ELIZABETH BROOKS |