Wouldst see blithe looks, fresh cheeks beguile <br />Age? wouldst see December smile? <br />Wouldst see nests of new roses grow <br />In a bed of reverend snow? <br />Warm thoughts, free spirits, flattering <br />Winter's self into a spring? <br />In sum wouldst see a man that can <br />Live to be old, and still a man? <br />Whose latest and most leaden hours, <br />Fall with soft wings stuck with soft flowers; <br />And, when life's sweet fable ends, <br />Soul and body part like friends; <br />No quarrels, murmurs, no delay - <br />A kiss, a sigh, and so away. <br />This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see? <br />Hark hither! - and thyself be he.<br /><br />Richard Crashaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/euthanasia-11/
