| Your Own Fair Youth |
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Your own fair youth, you care so little for it—
Smiling towards Heaven, you would not stay the advances
Of time and change upon your happiest fancies.
I keep your golden hour, and will restore it.
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If ever, in time to come, you would explore it—
Your old self, whose thoughts went like last year’s pansies,
Look unto me; no mirror keeps its glances;
In my unfailing praises now I store it.
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To guard all joys of yours from Time’s estranging,
I shall be then a treasury where your gay,
Happy, and pensive past unaltered is.
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I shall be then a garden charmed from changing,
In which your June has never passed away.
Walk there awhile among my memories.
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