Another full-orbed year hath waned to-day,And set in the irrevocable past,And headlong whirled long Time's winged blastMy fluttering rose of youth is borne away:Ah rose once crimson with the blood of May,A honeyed haunt where bees would break their fast,I watch thy scattering petals flee aghast,And all the flickering rose-lights turning grey.Poor fool of life! plagued ever with thy vainRegrets and futile longings! were the yearsNot cups o'erbrimming still with gall and tears?Let go thy puny personal joy and pain!If youth with all its brief hope disappears,To deathless hope we must be born again.