The heart's still sound. Shall "cakes and ale" At schoolboy dishes? Perish the thought! 'Tis ours to chant Belief with wishes. Austin Dobson [1840 THE ONE WHITE HAIR THE wisest of the wise Listen to pretty lies And love to hear 'em told. Doubt not that Solomon Listened to many a one, Some in his youth, and more when he grew old. I never was among The choir of Wisdom's song, But pretty lies loved I As much as any king, When youth was on the wing, And (must it then be told?) when youth had quite gone by. Alas! and I have not When one pert lady said, "O Walter! I am quite Bewildered with affright! I see (sit quiet now) a white hair on your head!" Another more benign Snipped it away from mine, And in her own dark hair Pretended it was found .*. . She leaped, and twirled it round . . Fair as she was, she never was so fair! Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] Middle Age BALLADE OF MIDDLE AGE OUR youth began with tears and sighs, Our verses all were threnodies, In elegiacs still we whined; Our ears were deaf, our eyes were blind, Oh, foolish youth, untimely wise! Oh, phantoms of the sickly mind! What? not content with seas and skies, With rainy clouds and southern wind, Though youth "turns spectre-thin and dies," We set our souls on salmon flies, We whistle where we once repined. ENVOY O nate mecum, worn and lined Our faces show, but that is naught; Our hearts are young 'neath wrinkled rind: Life's more amusing than we thought! 363 Andrew Lang [1844-1912] MIDDLE AGE WHEN that my days were fewer, Some twenty years ago, And all that is was newer, And time itself seemed slow, With ardor all impassioned, I let my hopes fly free, And deemed the world was fashioned My playing-field to be. The cup of joy was filled then And every friend was true; The men whose hair was sprinkled Whose faded brows were wrinkled- We knew their hearts were cold, At thirty, we admitted, If Fate prolongs his earth-days, We were the true immortals Who held the earth in fee; For us were flung the portals Of fame and victory. The days were bright and breezy, And gay our banners flew, And every peak was easy To scale at twenty-two. Middle Age And thus we spent our gay time And now I see how vainly A boy may still detest age, A man has reached his best age For youth it is the season Since, though his cheeks have roses, No boy can understand That everything he knows is A graft at second hand. But we have toiled and wandered Our hopes go out in tears, Irrevocable years. Yet, though with busy fingers No more we wreathe the flowers, An airy perfume lingers, A brightness still is ours. 365 And though no rose our cheeks have, The sky still shines as blue; And still the distant peaks have The glow of twenty-two. Rudolph Chambers Lehmann [1856-. TO CRITICS WHEN I was seventeen I heard From each censorious tongue, "I'd not do that if I were you; Now that I number forty years, O carping world! If there's an age An equal poise, alas! I must Have passed it in my sleep. Walter Learned [1847-1915] THE RAINBOW My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So be it when I shall grow old, The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. William Wordsworth (1770-1850) LEAVETAKING PASS, thou wild light, Wild light on peaks that so |