Youth's Inexperience.

He is too young yet to know life's demands; Being no natural philosopher, He must from cause and custom draw that art Which some of Nature have, the primal gift Of all her treasury — the open thought That climates in all circumstances, and breathes A native ease in everything; fear-proof, Even as a wild bird's weather-proof, being born And bred light as the leaves he habits in; Unlike his brother housed and finely reared With magisterial care, whom every change Affects like a distemper, as if he Had lost his nature's ancient art, and grew Like an exotic with a borrowed life.