YOUNG AND OLD

Charles Kingsley 1819-75

When all the world is young, lad,

  And all the trees are green,

And every goose a swan, lad,

  And every lass a queen,

Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

  And round the world away;

Young blood must have its course, lad,

  And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,

  And all the trees are brown;

And all the sport is stale, lad,

  And all the wheels run down,

Creep home, and take your place there,

  The spent and maimed among:

God grant you find one face there

  You loved when all was young.

-o0o-

LIFE

Daisaku Ikeda  b.1928

I will cast out

All the vagueness and indecision within me

Because my wish is to construct

The castle of my whole life

On the fulfilment of each promise that I make.

I want to live my life

As a surpassingly broadminded man

Known for being happy and honest

A person in whom people can have absolute trust.

I've put behind me

The age of dreaming about a rosy future

And with roots extended into life's reality

I realise that the power to create happiness

Derives from what we actually do today. 

-o0o-

ALL IN THE DOWNS

Thomas Hood (The Younger) 1835-74

I would I had something to do - or to think!

Or something to read, or to write!

I am rapidly verging on Lunacy’s brink,

Or I shall be dead before night.

In my ears has been ringing and droning all day,

Without ever a stop or a change,

That poem of Tennyson’s - heart-cheering lay! -

Of the Moated Monotonous Grange!

The stripes in the carpet and paper alike

I have counted, and counted all through.

And now I’ve a fervid ambition to strike

Out some path of wild pleasure that’s new.

They say if a number you count, and re-count,

That the time imperceptibly goes: -

Ah, I wish - how I wish! - I’d ne’er learnt the amount

Of my aggregate fingers and toes.

“Enjoyment is fleeting,” the proverbs all say,

“Even that, which it feeds upon, fails.”

I’ve arrived at the truth of the saying today,

By devouring the whole of my nails.

I have numbered the minutes, so heavy and slow,

Till of that dissipation I tire.

And as for exciting amusements - you know

One can’t ALWAYS be stirring the fire!

-o0o-

THE THOMAS HARDY POEM

A Broken Appointment

You did not come,
And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb.
Yet less for loss of your dear presence there
Than that I thus found lacking in your make
That high compassion which can overbear
Reluctance for pure lovingkindness' sake
Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum,
You did not come.

You love not me,
And love alone can lend you loyalty;
-I know and knew it. But, unto the store
Of human deeds divine in all but name,
Was it not worth a little hour or more
To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came
To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be
You love not me.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-