My Youth
W
William Henry Davies
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My youth was my old age,
Weary and long;
It had too many cares
To think of song;
My moulting days all came
When I was young.
Now, in life's prime, my soul
Comes out in flower;
Late, as with Robin, comes
My singing power;
I was not born to joy
Till this late hour.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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