Ballade of Youth and Age
(Double refrain.)
Spring at her height on a morn at prime,
Sails that laugh from a flying squall,
Pomp of harmony, rapture of rhyme-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
Winter sunsets and leaves that fall,
An empty flagon, a folded page,
A tumble-down wheel, a tattered ball-
These are a type of the world of Age.
Bells that clash in a gorgeous chime,
Swords that clatter in outsets tall,
The words that ring and the fames that climb-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
Old hymnals prone in a dusty stall,
A bald blind bird in a crazy cage,
The scene of a faded festival-
These are a type of the world of Age.
Hours that strut as the heirs of time,
Deeds whose rumour’s a clarion-call,
Songs where the singers their souls sublime-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A staff that rests in a nook of wall,
A reeling battle, a rusted gage,
The chant of a nearing funeral-
These are a type of the world of Age.
Envoy.
Struggle and sacrifice, revel and brawl-
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A smouldering hearth and a silent stage-
These are a type of the world of Age.
W. E. Henley.