O the heart of youth the world is a highwayside
Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand
Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide
Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide

Thick as stars at night when the moon is down
Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate
Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on
Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate
Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone