The fresh morning breeze of youth does blow
a short while with its balmy zephyrs
But holding forth with promises aglow
in heady dreams for younglings’ raptures
An aery gold, the light of evening sun
Reminding middle age of coming wanes,
a life well lived but soon to be done
And illuming the years’ rewarded pains
The gentle dark of night brings remembrance
For the a-ged to bathe in fond glory
And time to deal with death’s omnipotence
As they muse upon their life’s story
Our lives complete and full in counted days
Oh but are much too short a thousand ways