Youth wrenches the sceptre from old age, and sets the crown on its own head before it is entitled to it.
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
Now to rivulets from the mountains Point the rods of fortune-tellers; Youth perpetual dwells in fountains, Not in flasks, and casks, and cellars.
The thoughts of Youth are long, long thoughts
What else remains for me? Youth, hope and love; To build a new life on a ruined life.
Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.