![]() |
a sonnet from my college days! |
| O youth, like sharp and biting winds of spring Confounding thoughts and bringing sudden tears, You taunt with glee your hidden thoughts and sing Your songs; the music plays upon my fears. With treachery you bind my soul To passing things that linger not, but fly Forever out of reach. My fancy rolls With purpose on to nothing, then you cry With facts that jeer, “You fool!” like stinging barbs. “It is illusion.” You are not so kind. You are the sun and though you warm my heart, I gazed so long at you that I was blind; And now I come to realize, O youth, ‘Tis you the fool, for you are passing, too. |