  Move not so lightly, Time, away, Grant us a breathing-space of tender ruth; Deal not so harshly with the flying day, Leave us the charm of spring, the touch of youth. Leave us the lilacs wet with dew, Leave us the balsams odorous with rain, Leave us of frail hepaticas a few, Let the red osier sprout for us again. Leave us the hazel thickets set Along the hills, leave us a month that yields The fragile bloodroot and the violet, Leave us the sorrage shimmering on the fields. You offer us largess of power, You offer fame, we ask not these in sooth, These comfort age upon his failing hour, But oh, the charm of spring, the touch of youth! |
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