Ramblings

When the wild sun of boyhood for ever is going
Down the crimson horizon of early delight,
The mad pulse of hope less impetuously glowing,
As life's rosy season fades fast from the sight.

How the young heart sinks down, as if fearful of feeling;
The cold, cruel change, it must soon undergo,
When suspicion and sorrow shall o'er it be stealing,
And it finds the world's smile, but-hypocrisy's show.

When the frank open eye must be guarded in coldness,
The affectionate tongue chain'd to caution and art
The mind taught to mask its high-spirited boldness,
And cunning and cruelty harden the heart.

And doom'd to commingle with things it despises,
And smile upon what it regards, with disgust;
And if the warm nerve of its tenderness rises,
See the harsh wink of prudence- forbid it to trust.

When the epicure visions of innocence vanish,
And damning experience comes with its curse,
When forc'd the sweet faith of its nature to banish,
As hope's borne away on duplicity's hearse.

Oh! who does not feel that this sorrowful season
Is that where the paradise - curse must first lite;
When love breaks its neck on the cradle of reason;
For the sunset of boyhood - is that of delight.

M'Donald Clarke
The Elixir of Moonshine