Father William
'You are old, father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head -
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'
'In my youth,' father William replied to his son,
'I feared it would injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'
'You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -
Pray, what is the reason of that?'
'In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling the box -
Allow me to sell you a couple.'
'You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'
'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'
'You are old,' said the youth; one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -
What made you so awfully clever?'
'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!'
'That is not said right,' said the Caterpillar.
'Not quite right, I'm afraid,' said Alice timidly;
'some of the words have got altered.'
'It is wrong from beginning to end,'
said the Caterpillar decidedly, and
there was silence for some minutes.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Related quotes
You Are Old Father William
"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door --
Pray what is the reason for that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment -- one shilling a box --
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak --
Pray, how did you mange to do it?"
"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as every;
Yet you balanced an eel on the tend of your nose --
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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The Old Man's Comforts and how he gained them
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,
Now tell me the reason I pray.
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigour at first
That I never might need them at last.
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone,
Now tell me the reason I pray.
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past.
You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And life must be hastening away;
You are chearful, and love to converse upon death!
Now tell me the reason I pray.
I am chearful, young man, Father William replied,
Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age.
poem by Robert Southey
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Father William
A NEW VERSION BY LEE O. HARRIS AND JAMES
WHITCOMB RILEY
'You are old, Father William, and though one would think
All the veins in your body were dry,
Yet the end of your nose is red as a pink;
I beg your indulgence, but why?'
'You see,' Father William replied, 'in my youth--
'Tis a thing I must ever regret--
It worried me so to keep up with the truth
That my nose has a flush on it yet.'
'You are old,' said the youth, 'and I grieve to detect
A feverish gleam in your eye;
Yet I'm willing to give you full time to reflect.
Now, pray, can you answer me why?'
'Alas,' said the sage, 'I was tempted to choose
Me a wife in my earlier years,
And the grief, when I think that she didn't refuse,
Has reddened my eyelids with tears.'
'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,
'And you never touch wine, you declare,
Yet you sleep with your feet at the head of the bed;
Now answer me that if you dare.'
'In my youth,' said the sage, 'I was told it was true,
That the world turned around in the night;
I cherished the lesson, my boy, and I knew
That at morning my feet would be right.'
'You are old,' said the youth, 'and it grieved me to note,
As you recently fell through the door,
That 'full as a goose' had been chalked on your coat;
Now answer me that I implore.'
'My boy,' said the sage, 'I have answered you fair,
While you stuck to the point in dispute,
But this is a personal matter, and there
Is my answer--the toe of my boot.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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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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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 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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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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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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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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His Youth
Dying? I am not dying. Are you mad?
You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
\I\ think \you\ are a fiend, who would be glad
To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.
'But, man you lie! for I am strong-in truth
Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
My glorious youth-life's one great priceless boon.
'O youth, youth, youth! O God, that golden time,
When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.
'But I'm not \old\! I grew-just ill, somehow;
Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness. I am better now,
Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.
'And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
As I lay thinking of my glorious past.
'You shake your head? Why, man, if you were sane
I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
How dare you say I have outlived my youth?
''In heaven I may regain it?' Oh, be still!
I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill-
O youth, youth, youth! it is my \youth\ I crave.
'There is no heaven! There's nothing but a deep
And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
Perhaps we lie and \think\, as I have here.
'Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying! \I am not\.
I would curse God if such a thing could be.
'Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath-
Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?'
A cry-a fall-the silence known as death
Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his youth?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I Am My Father's Son
I am my father's son
fruit of his loins
morning of many a night
an end to his travails
in his eyes I am made;
the mirror of an unlived adventure
son of a sun
emblem of generations past
I am my father's son
strength of his grey hair
his joy at sunset
the memoirs of a lost youth
my father is a king
needing no crown or regalia
that makes me an heir
to the throne of meekness
poem by Samuel Obono Jr
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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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Father, Can you see me?
Can You See Me Father?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me through this night?
Father, are you with me?
I look up at the sky, and wonder why, I feel so alone now...
Father, will you help me?
Im afraid to close my eyes.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, if I sleep now, will you be watching over me this night?
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, the world I see is so much larger, than I remember when you were here with me.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me stand own my own two feet once more?
Father, Im on my knees, looking at the sky, looking for your eyes.
Father, I've lost my way, Lord, I pray for your guidance once more.
Father, what was your will, Lord, it was not mine.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, as I pray for your will, please come and show me the way, dear Lord I pray.
Amen
poem by Rose Rosado
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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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Blame It On My Youth
If I expected love when first we kissed
Blame it on my youth
If only just for you I did exist
Blame it on my youth
I believed in everything
Like a child at three
You meant more than everything
All the world to me
If you were on my mind all night and day
Blame it on my youth
If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray
Blame it on my youth
If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth
Don't blame it on my heart
Blame it on my-y youth
If you were on my mind all night and day-ay
Blame it on my youth
If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray
Blame it on my youth
If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth
Don't blame it on my heart
Blame it on my youth
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flashback Reaction
When father and daughter had words
contracting muscles in my face
felt like worms crawling
under my skin
Daughter conceded, father was right,
muscles relaxed, back to normal,
a flashback reaction
to early youth
When I held my fingers in my ears
as mother and father conversed
in angry words, grating
on my nerves…
poem by Margaret Alice
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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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Autumn of My Youth
In autumn of my youth
I see my leaves changing
I see my stars waning.
In autumn of my youth I dreamed a dream
And sought what I seemed to be
The meaning of that dream.
In autumn of my youth it was my lot
To hunt the hungry world a spot
And lay my burdens aside
In a vast field of rye so wide
In autumn of my youth it was my place
To wrap the summers in a constant embrace
Plead them not to enter
The Ashen Valley
Where dreams are broken asunder
Below grey skies.
In autumn of my youth
I see the faces of a world that awaits me.
So ghastly black and white,
Where the loss of hope defers the youth
A second sight
In autumn of my youth,
I longed to be
With the summers, one you and one me
Equally chained and equally free
poem by Jacob McCurdy
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Youth Culture Killed My Dog
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the night lights and my dog's life aren't exactly one and the same
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And the judgement made in the city of hate
Just broke his spirit so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the hiphop and the white funk just blew away my puppy's mind
I don't understand what you did to my dog
And i don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
Youth culture killed my dog (youth culture killed my dog)
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Max Rosenthau
Father Cleary sat at table with Max many a day
But I don't think he rated a bounteous gift when Max came to visit
Both were guests in the great house acrosss the street of youth
Father for years and Max for yearly one week stints.
The last time Max came was when his wife died
A man so profoundly broken
Even a fourteen year old could start to understand
That the desperation of his giref was the force that drove Max to Mass
Where Father from his view could not give communion to a Jew
And snapped the neck of something deep within me
That despite Father's great friendship
Never came back though I never said a word to Father Cleary.
poem by Bill Grace
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