’Neath the green limes of sunny climes1
I mark in earnest talk,2
A withered flower—gone bloom and power3
A young bud on the stalk.4
O gray-haired man, who fain would ban5
All pleasure to the boy,6
Whose cranks and quips from shrivelled lips7
Deal death to every joy !8
O man of guile, with soulless smile,9
O cringing slave to Gold,10
Tell not to him thy story grim,11
A tale best left untold !12
O stern and cold, O gray and old,13
Cast not thy shadow o’er14
The faith of youth, the trust and truth15
That thou canst feel no more !16
But let his hours be wreathed with flowers ;17
His Dawn, ere rises Day,18
Be bright and fair, as thy days were,19
Ere winter chilled thy May !20
There is a time for jest and rhyme21
Life’s clouds rise all too soon ;22
Its snows descend toward the end :23
Let roses blow in June !24