One said, “Youth cometh but once to me,
So I shall play, and laugh, and sing;
I own no chains. I will be free,
None shall deny me anything.”
He had his fling, then worn and gray,
With weary soul and eyelids wet,
He tried to wash the tears away,
And stem the tide of vain regret.
One said, “My youth comes not again,
I must not spoil it as it goes.
I must not live a day in vain,
Nor stain a page, nor mar a rose.”
The future found him glad and strong,
Unbound by weariness and fears,
Treading his journey with a song,
Heir to the gladness of the years.