So glide the days, dear! Dawn will not delay, <br /> Noontide will come, nor linger in its flight; <br />And even-time in turn must pass away <br /> Into the darkness of a dreamless night. <br /> Hold fast, Beloved, thy season of delight: <br />Make merry while the morning gilds the sky, <br />And dews undried upon the roses lie; <br /> Thy golden morn of May-time, brief as bright. <br />For labor waits; and cares thou canst not miss; <br /> Grief for thy gladness, and for laughter, tears. <br />Ah, love! if only love might spare thee this- <br /> Might hold a little farther off the years! - <br />A little longer bind thy winged feet, <br />O youth, -most swift in passing, and most sweet!<br /><br />Ina D. Coolbrith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-birthday-rhyme/
