XVII: The Westminster Play

Not from the youth-illumined stage alone Is gladness shed; it breathes around from all Whose names imprinted on each honour'd wall Speak deathless boyhood; on whose hearts the tone That makes a classic phrase familiar grown New by its crisp expression, seem to fall From distant years; while shouting striplings, still On life's gay verge, make younger bosoms thrill With proud delight which lately charm'd their own; While richest humour strangely serves to fill Worn eyes with child-like tears; for memory lifts Time's curtain from the soul's remotest stage, And sympathy makes strangers share the gifts That clasp in golden meshes youth and age.