The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCIX
YOUTH
Youth, ageless youth, the old gods' attribute!
--To inherit cheeks a--tingle with such blood
As wood nymphs blushed, who to the first--blown flute
Went out in endless dancing through the wood.
To live, and taste of that immortal food
After the wild day's waste prepared for us
By deathless hands, and straightway be renewed,
Like the god's entrails upon Caucasus.
To rise at dawn with eye and brain and sense
Clear as the pale green edge where dawn began,
While each bold thought full shapen should arise,
Cutting the horizon of experience,
Sharp as an obelisk.--Ah, wretched Man!
'Tis little wonder that the gods are wise.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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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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Adonis
The gods did love Adonis, and for this
He died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek.
For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss.
He sighed one sigh, as though he fain would speak
The name he loved, but that his breath grown weak
Died on his lips. So died the summer breeze;
And all the wood was hushed a minute's space,
Where I stood listening underneath the trees,
Until a wood--chat from her secret place
Chirped in an undertone, ``He is not dead,
Not dead, for lo! the bloom upon his face
Is ruddy as the newly--blossomed rose
Which even yet is woven round his head.
But sleep, more sweet than waking dream, doth close
The laughter of his eyes. He is not dead.''
Alone in that fair wood the livelong day
And through the silent night I watched him near.
But in the morning he was fled away,
When broke the dawn upon me cold and clear.
I looked within the thicket where he lay;
And lo! the sod, which he had pressed in death,
Was white with blossoms, scattered from the may,
Which made the thick air sweet with their sweet breath.
But he was gone; and I went o'er the heath,
Clutching, like one distraught, the dim air grey
With dawning,--for a voice encompassed me,
Crying, ``Fair boy, thy youth was but a span,
Yet did it circle in eternity.
Thy epic was accomplishèd. A man
Fills but the measure of his destiny,
And thine was all complete. Ere age began
To mar the royal palace of thy youth
With upper storeys of less perfect plan,
Death, kindly Death, filled with immortal ruth,
Took back the trowel from the builder's hand,
And wrote his `fecit' on thy work of truth.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Ballade Of Mature Beauty
Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.
poem by Albert Price
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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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Young People
Young people gather wood, rather rotten wood,
Relaxing as can be, relishing the coal of the fire;
They wait until death has arrived, on their doorstep,
When steps are taken to disturb the real fire of life.
Youth is spending a youth, young men and women,
All of them are splendid in jobs, worthwhile endeavour.
We space our life around the stages we encounter,
The young heart masters a new strategy, feeling good
About the way we wonder and wander, like burning wood.
The heart of red blood felt all right,
But young hearts defend themselves.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Eat the Food
Taste the food of thought and stay awhile,
To inhibit the dining process and then defile
The folder of youth as though you contrive
The reader of youth to say his archive.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Rubicon
In this promised land
Fire burnin in our hands
The choice is ours to make
Realize your fantasy
You live the dream
With every step you take
Stand tall stand on the edge
Use the thin end of the wedge
The will to cast your fate
Dont turn around too late
Lose ground if we hesitate
Burning youth wont wait
Make a move across the rubicon
Futures knockin at your door
Take your time
And choose the road you want
Opportunity is yours
See it all so clear
Time is right time is near
We know now what to do
All gods children learn
Which way to turn
Turning back were through
We all refuse to lose
Live life and light the fuse
Burning youth wont wait
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nurse's Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Experience (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Moving Through The Dew
I
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
Ere I waken in the city—Life, thy dawn makes all things new!
And up a fir-clad glen, far from all the haunts of men,
Up a glen among the mountains, oh my feet are wings again!
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
O mountains of my boyhood, I come again to you,
By the little path I know, with the sea far below,
And above, the great cloud-galleons with their sails of rose and snow
As of old, when all was young, and the earth a song unsung
And the heather through the crimson dawn its Eden incense flung
From the mountain-heights of joy, for a careless-hearted boy,
And the lavrocks rose like fountain sprays of bliss that ne’er could cloy,
From their little beds of bloom, from the golden gorse and broom,
With a song to God the Giver, o’er that waste of wild perfume;
Blowing from height to height, in a glory of great light,
While the cottage-clustered valleys held the lilac last of night,
So, when dawn is in the skies, in a dream, a dream, I rise,
And I follow my lost boyhood to the heights of Paradise.
Life, thy dawn makes all things new! Hills of Youth, I come to you,
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.
II
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,
Floats a brother’s face to meet me! Is it you? Is it you?
For the night I leave behind keeps these dazzled eyes still blind!
But oh, the little hill-flowers, their scent is wise and kind;
And I shall not lose the way from the darkness to the day,
While dust can cling as their scent clings to memory for aye;
And the least link in the chain can recall the whole again,
And heaven at last resume its far-flung harvests, grain by grain.
To the hill-flowers clings my dust, and tho’ eyeless Death may thrust
All else into the darkness, in their heaven I put my trust;
And a dawn shall bid me climb to the little spread of thyme
Where first I heard the ripple of the fountain-heads of rhyme.
And a fir-wood that I know, from dawn to sunset-glow,
Shall whisper to a lonely sea, that swings far, far below.
Death, thy dawn makes all things new. Hills of Youth, I come to you,
Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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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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Second Nature
WHEN I was young how fair the skies,
Such folly of cloud, such blue depths wise,
Such dews of morn, such calms of eve,
So many the lure and the reprieve--
Life seemed a toy to break and mend
And make a charm of in the end.
Then slowly all the dew dried up
And only dust lay in the cup;
And since, to slake his thirst, man must,
I sought a cup that had no dust,
And found it at the Goat and Vine--
Mingled of brandy, beer and wine.
The goat-cup, straight, drew down the skies
And lit them in lunatick wise:
What had been rose went scarlet red,
And the pearl tints grew like the dead.
And the fresh primrose of the morn
Was the wet red of rain-spoiled corn.
Now, with a head that aches and nods
I hold weak hands out to the gods;
And oh! forgiving gods and kind,
They give me healing to my mind,
And show me once again the lawn
Green and clear-gemmed with dews of dawn.
O gods, who look down from above
Upon our tangle of lust and love,
And, in your purity, perceive
The worth of what our follies leave:
Give us but this, and sink the rest--
To know that dew and dawn are best.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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When!
WHEN I am young again I'll hoard my bliss,
Nor deem that inexhaustible it is,
Remembering old age comes after this,
Joy grows to pain;
Nor waste one moment of youth's rose-sweet hours,
Nor trample one of all its countless flowers,
But drink the summer sun and soft spring showers,
When I am young again.
I will be wise with wisdom dearly won
By those who through life's wood have nearly run;
Learn what to do, and what to leave undone,
Risk or refrain.
I will not seek into my mouth to take
The bitter apple of the acrid lake,
But at clear fountains all my thirsts will slake,
When I am young again.
I will not brush the bloom to reach the core,
Remembering how it chanced with me before,
And bloom once lost returns not any more,
Hard cores remain:
I will fence round with prudence and secure
A lasting bloom whose freshness shall endure;
Oh, I will guard my peach of youth, be sure,
When I am young again.
When I am young again, I'll spend no breath
On bitter words the heart remembereth
When bitterness is swallowed up by Death
Holding sole reign;
I'll love so well that if they pass to sleep
Before me, I shall have no watch to keep
Over their tears-only my tears to weep
When I am young again.
I will not lightly joy nor idly grieve,
Nor for a heaven itself one soul deceive,
Nor will I be deceived, vainly believe,
Nor love in vain.
Come back, lost youth! Ah, Fate, that one gift give!
Then I will show that I have learned to live;
Youth shall be wise--and two and two make five--
When I am young again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Faithless Shepherdess
WHILE that the sun with his beams hot
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon the shepherd, late forgot,
Sitting beside a crystal fountain
In shadow of a green oak tree,
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight
I was your heart, your soul, your treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure:
--Three days endured your love to me,
And it was lost in other three!
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another shepherd you did see,
To whom your heart was soon enchained;
Full soon your love was leapt from me,
Full soon my place he had obtained.
Soon came a third your love to win,
And we were out and he was in.
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Sure you have made me passing glad
That you your mind so soon removed,
Before that I the leisure had
To choose you for my best beloved:
For all my love was pass'd and done
Two days before it was begun.
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
CRABB'D 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 sport,
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 Byrd
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