<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539318" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dying Kid</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi<br>Prima fugit-…<br>~Virg.<br>Imitation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! wretched mortals we! - our brightest days<br>On fleetest pinions fly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A tear bedews my Delia's eye,<br>To think yon playful kid must die;<br>From crystal spring, and flowery mead,<br>Must, in his prime of life, recede!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Erewhile, in sportive circles round<br>She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound!<br>From rock to rock pursue his way,<br>And on the fearful margin play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pleased on his various freaks to dwell,<br>She saw him climb my rustic cell;<br>Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,<br>And seem'd all ravish'd at the sight:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She tells with what delight he stood,<br>To trace his features in the flood:<br>Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze,<br>And then drew near again to gaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She tells me how with eager speed<br>He flew to hear my vocal reed;<br>And how, with critic face profound,<br>And steadfast ear, devour'd the sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His every frolic, light as air,<br>Deserves the gentle Delia's care;<br>And tears bedew her tender eye,<br>To think the playful kid must die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But knows my Delia, timely wise,<br>How soon this blameless era flies;<br>While violence and craft succeed,<br>Unfair design, and ruthless deed?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon would the vine his wounds deplore,<br>And yield her purple gifts no more;<br>Ah! soon erased from every grove<br>Were Delia's name, and Strephon's love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No more those bowers might Strephon see,<br>Where first he fondly gazed on thee;<br>No more those beds of flowerets find,<br>Which for thy charming brows he twined.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each wayward passion soon would tear<br>His bosom, now so void of care;<br>And, when they left his ebbing vein,<br>What, but insipid age, remain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then mourn not the decrees of Fate,<br>That gave his life so short a date;<br>And I will join my tenderest sighs,<br>To think that youth so swiftly flies!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=539318" data-title="The Dying Kid de William Shenstone" data-description="Optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi Prima fugit-… ~Virg. Imitation. Ah! wretched mortals we! - our brightest days On fleetest pinions fly. A tear bedews my Delia's eye, To think yon playful kid must die; From crystal spring, and flower..."></div> </div> </div>

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