by Eric Rosenbloom
It all had happened before: discoveries of youth
Burned bright in the heat of purpose and truth:
And love unrealized was for that more pure:
It haunts the rooms of our aging shelter,
Mocks the wisdom where pleasures are fewer
As if that long lost chance had been a cure.
But youth is frail, giving way to age
That year to year will flower with the sun
That love once lost in foolish ignorance
Is found again, is rescued from oblivion:
The stars faintly glimmer, the moon fades and grows,
The sun rises and familiar lips taste of fresher rose.