The Brief Hour of Youth-Intellectual

Those were days of majic,
When all the world was young.
I could debate with ease,
Convinced that I was right.

Those were days of vigor,
All the world was at loss.
I had all the wisdom,
Or so I once thought.

Youth grows old and palsied,
Youth's brightness turns to dust.
It ceases to be bold,
It ceases to be carefree.

Once I feared my old age,
My loss of timeless youth,
But I had my hour,
I loved it for what it was.

All that is good in man
Will come to its own end.
It loses its time and place
And makes way for the new.