TO A YOUNG MAN.
Caress thy pleasures with a reverent touch,
Too soon at best their early fragrance flees.
Seek not to know, to see, or taste too much:
The sweetest, deepest cup hath still its lees;
The blushing grape is not too rudely pressed,
When gushes forth its richest and its best.
Bird, bubble, butterfly on light wing straying,
With changing tints of crimson, blue, and gold,
Upon warm waves of summer sunlight swaying,
When thy frail, flaming wing the boy shall hold,
Alas, how soon its fragile charms expire!
E’en so when strong men seize their soul’s desire.
Rend not with ruthless hand the lily’s bell,
To gather all its sweetness at a breath;
Spill not the pearl deep in its bosom’s cell,
The crystal gift Aurora’s tears bequeath.
So shall a delicate perfume be thine,
Through all the weary hours of day’s decline.
The gentlest spirits of the earth and air—
Sweet mysteries to ruder men unknown—
Will yield delights as delicate as rare,
The secret bowers of Love shall be thy own,
The one great bliss, so long thy hope’s despair,
Will press with eager feet to find thee there.