When on my youth in solitude I ruminate,
Before glass shows me a wrinkled face,
Laughing at self the self does confiscate,
And dries all tears and robs all my grace,
Naked eyes see not how age and youth,
Live together as in milk cream and butter,
The milk is soured and its naughty ruth,
Is called life force when the milk is shatter
When youth wears a new knitted dress,
Looks pretty like a moving scarecrow,
In a new world is hailed youth’s ingress,
Now the world welcomes your silver brow.
Youth and age rest in the lap of years,
Virtue prolongs life shortens human fears.