Thy solemn eye, and beard’s descending flow,
I dare avouch, of life’s most pleasing way,
The best is gilded with the morning ray.
See all our life the coinage of our eye;
(O shut thy book—let go philosophy!)
In Youth the pennies pass, ’tis no less strange
That Age and Manhood clink the silver change.
Through all estates our joys alike are vain;
Then chide not one who turns to youth again.
One rainbow vision of youth’s earnest eyes