The Prince of Youth
Yesterday I was the prince of my youth;
Today I’m the emperor of my years.
My empire but a domain of the truth,
A smile in the spring in winter but tears.
Withal still out looking for what I’ve lost
And counted the years like eggs in a tray,
I found all were empty shells, tempest-tossed,
Dreams that pass without a permit to stay.
I would that I could hark back one fullday,
She beside me talking about our future;
But alas! I was wounded by fate to stay
With a surgeon without a suture.
Youth and age without love naught but despair,
So why should I hence worry or care.