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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115885" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Funeral of Youth: Threnody</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The day that Youth had died,<br>There came to his grave-side,<br>In decent mourning, from the country's ends,<br>Those scatter'd friends<br>Who had lived the boon companions of his prime,<br>And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted,<br>In feast and wine and many-crown'd carouse,<br>The days and nights and dawnings of the time<br>When Youth kept open house,<br>Nor left untasted<br>Aught of his high emprise and ventures dear,<br>No quest of his unshar'd -<br>All these, with loitering feet and sad head bar'd,<br>Followed their old friend's bier.<br>Folly went first,<br>With muffled bells and coxcomb still revers'd;<br>And after trod the bearers, hat in hand -<br>Laughter, most hoarse, and Captain Pride with tanned<br>And martial face all grim, and fussy Joy,<br>Who had to catch a train, and Lust, poor, snivelling boy;<br>These bore the dear departed.<br>Behind them, broken-hearted,<br>Came Grief, so noisy a widow, that all said,<br>'Had he but wed<br>Her elder sister Sorrow, in her stead!'<br>And by her, trying to soothe her all the time,<br>The fatherless children, Colour, Tune, and Rhyme<br>(The sweet lad Rhyme), ran all-uncomprehending.<br>Then, at the way's sad ending,<br>Round the raw grave they stay'd. Old Wisdom read,<br>In mumbling tone, the Service for the Dead.<br>There stood Romance,<br>The furrowing tears had mark'd her rouged cheek;<br>Poor old Conceit, his wonder unassuaged;<br>Dead Innocency's daughter, Ignorance;<br>And shabby, ill-dress'd Generosity;<br>And Argument, too full of woe to speak;<br>Passion, grown portly, something middle-aged;<br>And Friendship - not a minute older, she;<br>Impatience, ever taking out his watch;<br>Faith, who was deaf, and had to lean, to catch<br>Old Wisdom's endless drone.<br>Beauty was there,<br>Pale in her black; dry-eyed; she stood alone.<br>Poor maz'd Imagination; Fancy wild;<br>Ardour, the sunlight on his greying hair;<br>Contentment, who had known Youth as a child<br>And never seen him since. And Spring came too,<br>Dancing over the tombs, and brought him flowers -<br>She did not stay for long.<br>And Truth, and Grace, and all the merry crew,<br>The laughing Winds and Rivers, and lithe Hours;<br>And Hope, the dewy-eyed; and sorrowing Song; -<br>Yes, with much woe and mourning general,<br>At dead Youth's funeral,<br>Even these were met once more together, all,<br>Who erst the fair and living Youth did know;<br>All, except only Love. Love had died long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115885" data-title="The Funeral of Youth: Threnody de Rupert Brooke" data-description="The day that Youth had died,/There came to his grave-side,/In decent mourning, from the country's ends,/Those scatter'd friends/Who had lived the boon companions of his prime,/And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted,/In feast and wine an..."></div>
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