The Wife-Blessed
I.
In youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,
Lorn-faced and long of hair--
In youth--in youth he painted her
A sister of the air--
Could clasp her not, but felt the stir
Of pinions everywhere.
II.
She lured his gaze, in braver days,
And tranced him sirenwise;
And he did paint her, through a haze
Of sullen paradise,
With scars of kisses on her face
And embers in her eyes.
III.
And now--nor dream nor wild conceit--
Though faltering, as before--
Through tears he paints her, as is meet,
Tracing the dear face o'er
With lilied patience meek and sweet
As Mother Mary wore.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Youth is blind
Youth is power; youth is vigour;
Youth is initiative; youth is revolutionary;
Youth is dedication; youth is freedom;
Youth is love; youth is passion.
Yes, because youth is blind
Out of them elders make winds
01.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Youth Youth Youth
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Don't wanna spend my life saving up for things
Don't wanna have what a steady job brings
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Don't wanna stay at home not making any noise
I've always got to be out
I've always got to have a choice
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Madrigal
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sports,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:-
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee-
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
poem by William Shakespeare
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He and She
[HE.] I know a youth who loves a little maid -
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid -
(Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] I know a maid who loves a gallant youth -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
SHE cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth -
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the poor soul do?
[HE.] He cannot eat and he cannot sleep -
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Daily he goes for to wail - for to weep -
(Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] She's very thin and she's very pale -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
Daily she goes for to weep - for to wail -
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the poor soul do?
[SHE.] If I were the youth I should offer her my name -
(Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!)
[HE.] If I were the maid I should fan his honest flame -
(Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
[HE.] If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way -
(For I really do believe that timid youth will die!)
[BOTH.] I thank you much for your counsel true;
I've learnt what that poor soul ought to do!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Youth
Mood of youth,
Mood of youth,
Eagle-like must seek the blue,
Dauntlessly its course pursue,
All the mountain-heights must view.
Blood of youth,
Blood of youth,
Steam-like puts full-speed to sea,
E'en though storm and ice there be,
Makes its way and romps in glee.
Dream of youth,
Dream of youth,
Rogue-like stealing sets its snare
In the maiden's morning-prayer;
All the springtime, fragrant, glowing,
In its airy waves is flowing.
Joy of youth,
Joy of youth,
Waterfall-like foams in truth,
Laughing, rainbow-gifts forth flashing,
Even while to death 't is dashing.
Joy of youth,
Dream of youth,
Blood of youth,
Mood of youth,
Clothe the world with colors golden,
Singing songs that never olden.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Youth Of 1,000 Summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul. in my soul, in my soul
In my soul. in my soul. in my soul
And he looks so radiant
And he shines like the sun
And he looks so radiant
And he lights up the world
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Yeah, love it, yeah, love it
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
He's the king of the mountain
And the clear crystal fountain
He's the saint of the river
He's the ancient of days
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And he makes you go skipping
And he makes you go dancing
And he gets you in rhythm
And he moves you in song
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Oh, in my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And a sweet bird of youth
In my soul (repeat)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Blossom
THOUGH young no more, we still would dream
Of beauty's dear deluding wiles;
The leagues of life to graybeards seem
Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles.
Who knows a woman's wild caprice?
'It played with Goethe's silvered hair,
And many a Holy Father's 'niece'
Has softly smoothed the papal chair.
When sixty bids us sigh in vain
To melt the heart of sweet sixteen,
We think upon those ladies twain
Who loved so well the tough old Dean.
We see the Patriarch's wintry face,
The maid of Egypt's dusky glow,
And dream that Youth and Age embrace,
As April violets fill with snow.
Tranced in her lord's Olympian smile
His lotus-loving Memphian lies,--
The musky daughter of the Nile,
With plaited hair and almond eyes.
Might we but share one wild caress
Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall,
And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress
The long cold kiss that waits us all!
My bosom heaves, remembering yet
The morning of that blissful day,
When Rose, the flower of spring, I met,
And gave my raptured soul away.
Flung from her eyes of purest blue,
A lasso, with its leaping chain,
Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew
O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain.
Thou com'st to cheer my waning age,
Sweet vision, waited for so long!
Dove that would seek the poet's cage
Lured by the magic breath of song!
She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid,
Love's drapeau rouge the truth has told!
O' er girlhood's yielding barricade
Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold!
Come to my arms!--love heeds not years;
No frost the bud of passion knows.
Ha! what is this my frenzy hears?
A voice behind me uttered,--Rose!
Sweet was her smile,--but not for me;
Alas! when woman looks too kind,
Just turn your foolish head and see,--
Some youth is walking close behind!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Someday
hold her close when she's near
let her scare away your fears
only she can dry your tears
[she whispers in your ear]
[with lips of truth]
believe in love
[clairvoyant youth]
believe it's enough
-life could be so sweet someday-
look into those eyes of hers
pay attention to her words
don't just simply wait your turn
[she will speak of wonders]
[with lips of truth]
believe in love
[clairvoyant youth]
believe it's enough
-life could be so sweet someday-
feel her heart change it's pace
tell her things will be okay
kiss her lips and grab her face
[she'll take your breath away]
[with lips of truth]
believe in love
[clairvoyant youth]
believe it's enough
-life could be so sweet someday-
[with lips of truth]
believe it's enough
[clairvoyant youth]
believe in love and..
-someday love could be enough-
(07/27/07)
poem by Frozen Beauty
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Her Face.
There is a something in her face
Which in no other I can trace,
And feelings sweet as music stir
When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,
And breathe a perfume, as it were,
From flowers in Paradise.
At morn, at noon and night it seems
As if I moved by faery streams,
A strange light on the leaves and grass;
As if her life-breath were the air
Through which the magic moments pass
In her dream-beauty there.
It is thought's paradise which she
Inhabits like a mystery,
Through which my feelings come and go
Like tunes which to her pulses stir;
And my life day by day, I trow,
Is one sweet dream of her.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Two Locks Of Hair. From The German Of Pfeizer
A Youth, light-hearted and content,
I wander through the world
Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent
And straight again is furled.
Yet oft I dream, that once a wife
Close in my heart was locked,
And in the sweet repose of life
A blessed child I rocked.
I wake! Away that dream,--away!
Too long did it remain!
So long, that both by night and day
It ever comes again.
The end lies ever in my thought;
To a grave so cold and deep
The mother beautiful was brought;
Then dropt the child asleep.
But now the dream is wholly o'er,
I bathe mine eyes and see;
And wander through the world once more,
A youth so light and free.
Two locks--and they are wondrous fair--
Left me that vision mild;
The brown is from the mother's hair,
The blond is from the child.
And when I see that lock of gold,
Pale grows the evening-red;
And when the dark lock I behold,
I wish that I were dead.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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College love encounter
If you are who I think you are, your face, your name
I may be lost, not knowing, not to be who I am
Such a swift unexpected encounter to bare in my face
It brings all past passions confusions back to surface
Well at first sight I wonder how life have been with you
Are you happy? that I should thus be happy too
For still my heart regards your weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do, as always was thus its will
I am unconsciously courteous unable to suppress my brimming sighs
The piercing melting power of your eyes
A vision I always longed and dread to see
It now brings the old havoc and tremble all over me
Oh dear; let it be short, adieu I must away
While you are blest I will not repine
For near you, I still can never Longley stay
My heart would soon again crave to make you mine
For years I wondered whether time or pride
Had quenched at length the youths flame
Nor knew till this hasty random meeting on street side
My heart in all save hope and expectations the same
Yet I am calm in this ghastly encounter, I knew the time
My chest would thrill and rebel against your look
Well, well by chance we meet and not a nerve is shook
As thus love of youth frozen encapsulated in its prime
I notice the gaze upon your face
yet we meet with no confusion there
One only feeling could you trace
the sullen calmness of despair
Away, away I brush my early dream
remembrance, reminiscence sleep again never awake
Oh I bagged life not to be derailed but back to its daily routine stream
Oh foolish heart be still, stop torturing my soul, if you rebel you again break
Thus lady of past early youth love
I must view your charms no more
For as long as this encounter lingers as the heaven above
I sigh for all I felt and experience before
In short I shall be surely wise
To escape from temptation snare
Your beauty and charm with years of patina is my paradise
I cannot view you, without the wish of re dwelling there
As Adam was expelled from Eden bowers
A moment I lingered near college paradise gate
Recalling the scenes of happy vanished lost hours
And bade myself to curse my future fate
But wondering through life long years
I learnt to bare my load of grief
Just gave a sigh to my vain pangs and tears
And found to me remedy, recovery relief
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Though some Saith that Youth Ruleth me
1 Though some saith that youth ruleth me,
2 I trust in age to tarry.
3 God and my right and my duty,
4 From them I shall never vary,
5 Though some say that youth ruleth me.
6 I pray you all that aged be,
7 How well did ye your youth carry?
8 I think some worse, of each degree:
9 Therein a wager lay dare I,
10 Though some saith that youth ruleth me.
11 Pastimes of youth sometime among,
12 None can say but necessary.
13 I hurt no man, I do no wrong,
14 I love true where I did marry,
15 Though some saith that youth ruleth me.
16 Then soon discuss that hence we must.
17 Pray we to God and Saint Mary
18 That all amend, and here an end,
19 Thus saith the king, the eighth Harry,
20 Though some saith that youth ruleth me.
poem by Henry VIII King of England
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In a Herber Green Asleep Whereas I Lay
In a herber green asleep whereas I lay,
The birds sang sweet in the middle of the day;
I dreamed fast of mirth and play:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go;
But when I wak'd it was not so:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my heart is surely pight
Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and heart's delight:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
poem by Robert Wever
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Two Young Girls in Summer Jeans
Two young girls in summer jeans
Hold hands and kiss
As a charmingly young and handsome unshaven boy
Tags along secretly in love with both.
Youth is a sweet dream to slowly savor
As long as humanly possible,
To dramatically enjoy every breath
With an open-minded desire to embrace
Everything and everyone.
Youth can only be maintained forever
In the charitable and non-judgmental mind;
One can lose his youth in an hour
When he chooses to close his eyes
And to condemn the ways of joy
He fails to understand.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Gardener XLVI: You Left Me
You left me and went on your way.
I thought I should mourn for you
and set your solitary image in my
heart wrought in a golden song.
But ah, my evil fortune, time is
short.
Youth wanes year after year; the
spring days are fugitive; the frail
flowers die for nothing, and the wise
man warns me that life is but a
dewdrop on the lotus leaf.
Should I neglect all this to gaze after
one who has turned her back on me?
That would be rude and foolish,
for time is short.
Then, come, my rainy nights with
pattering feet; smile, my golden
autumn; come, careless April, scatter-
ing your kisses abroad.
You come, and you, and you also!
My loves, you know we are mortals.
Is it wise to break one's heart for the
one who takes her heart away? For
time is short.
It is sweet to sit in a corner to muse
and write in rhymes that you are all
my world.
It is heroic to hug one's sorrow and
determine not to be consoled.
But a fresh face peeps across my
door and raise its eyes to my eyes.
I cannot but wipe away my tears
and change the tune of my song.
For time is short.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A Poem to Honor St. Valentine
If youth could age's wisdom ken,
& age could know youth's fire again
or age could Old Time's hands turn back
T'would then be youth with time to spend
& wisdom's strengths on which to depend.
This said, t'is never just white or black
For youth doth all discretion lack
& age tho' willing & desirous to play
To youth's vitality must passion give way
& such a conflict therein lies
for age is by youth most oft despised
& youth by age oft seen to whine,
“please, won't you be my valentine?”
poem by Hugh Cobb (12 February 2006)
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Youth In Embers
My mirror is troubled, tired of lying to me
My youth is gone, life torn and tattered no longer to be
Like quenching flames that dance suffocating in the rain
Just the agony, pain and regrets of past years reflect again
Is there a way I thought to throw my ashen cloak
And start my life anew under different clock
Yet the flames of my youth shall never leap and burn
Time flows on me so cruelly with no return
So many winters have besieged my life, quizzes out of grace
And dug deep trenches in my face
My skin is dying, dry, dots and spots, brittle and blasted away
Youth proud of lusty days, against now deep-sunken eyes of decay
For years I stopped birthdays and calendar count to tell my time
As the brave day sinks into a hideous foul night
I watch the shy violet behind a rock that year by year renews its prime
My youth in embers, like ashes all bleak white
Nobody ever.....
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his eyes were misty.
He learnt about sex from Cindy,
but nobody ever, no, nobody ever,
taught him how to love.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his pockets were full.
He drank, he smoked, he learned to use a gun
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him how to have fun.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his wits were sharp.
He learnt to duck and dive and to deceive
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him what it is to really live.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The dreams
Two dreams came down to earth one night
From the realm of mist and dew;
One was a dream of the old, old days,
And one was a dream of the new.
One was a dream of a shady lane
That led to the pickerel pond
Where the willows and rushes bowed themselves
To the brown old hills beyond.
And the people that peopled the old-time dream
Were pleasant and fair to see,
And the dreamer he walked with them again
As often of old walked he.
Oh, cool was the wind in the shady lane
That tangled his curly hair!
Oh, sweet was the music the robins made
To the springtime everywhere!
Was it the dew the dream had brought
From yonder midnight skies,
Or was it tears from the dear, dead years
That lay in the dreamer's eyes?
The other dream ran fast and free,
As the moon benignly shed
Her golden grace on the smiling face
In the little trundle-bed.
For 't was a dream of times to come--
Of the glorious noon of day--
Of the summer that follows the careless spring
When the child is done with play.
And 't was a dream of the busy world
Where valorous deeds are done;
Of battles fought in the cause of right,
And of victories nobly won.
It breathed no breath of the dear old home
And the quiet joys of youth;
It gave no glimpse of the good old friends
Or the old-time faith and truth.
But 't was a dream of youthful hopes,
And fast and free it ran,
And it told to a little sleeping child
Of a boy become a man!
These were the dreams that came one night
To earth from yonder sky;
These were the dreams two dreamers dreamed--
My little boy and I.
And in our hearts my boy and I
Were glad that it was so;
He loved to dream of days to come,
And I of long ago.
So from our dreams my boy and I
Unwillingly awoke,
But neither of his precious dream
Unto the other spoke.
Yet of the love we bore those dreams
Gave each his tender sign;
For there was triumph in his eyes--
And there were tears in mine!
poem by Eugene Field
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