And after all -- and after all, <br /> Our passionate prayers, and sighs, and tears, <br />Is life a reckless carnival? <br /> And are they lost, our golden years? <br /> <br />Ah, no; ah, no; for, long ago, <br /> Ere time could sear, or care could fret, <br />There was a youth called Romeo, <br /> There was a maid named Juliet. <br /> <br />The players of the past are gone; <br /> The races rise; the races pass; <br />And softly over all is drawn <br /> The quiet Curtain of the Grass. <br /> <br />But when the world went wild with Spring, <br /> What days we had! Do you forget? <br />When I of all the world was King, <br /> And you were my Queen Juliet? <br /> <br />The things that are; the things that seem -- <br /> Who shall distinguish shape from show? <br />The great processional, splendid dream <br /> Of life is all I wish to know. <br /> <br />The gods their faces turn away <br /> From nations and their little wars; <br />But we our golden drama play <br /> Before the footlights of the stars. <br /> <br />There lives -- though Time should cease to flow, <br /> And stars their courses should forget -- <br />There lives a grey-haired Romeo, <br /> Who loves a golden Juliet.<br /><br />Victor James Daley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/players/
