IN youth our fiery lips were fed With fruit in lavish waste; We watch it now hung o'er our head, -- And, now, at length, can taste. The boisterous pleasures of the boy Their own deep rapture steal; I ask no longer to enjoy, But ah! to muse and feel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 3. IN PORT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FRIENDSHIP; A SONNET by ALFRED TENNYSON RAINY SEASON by HARRIET GRAY BLACKWELL PILLBOX by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TRUE TO POLL by FRANCIS COWLEY BURNAND |