AGE <br />O Age, thou art the very thief of joy, <br />For thou hast rifled many a proud fool <br />Of all his passions, hoarded by a rule <br />Of stern economy. Him, yet a boy, <br />Harsh wisdom governed. Others turned to toy <br />With lusty passion. He was chaste and cool <br />As a young Dorian in Lycurgus' school. <br />Ah me, that thou such souls shouldst dare annoy. <br />Thus did he gather him a store of pleasure, <br />Nor cared to touch what he so hardly won, <br />But led long years of solitary strife; <br />And, when the rest should have consumed their treasure, <br />He thought to sit him in the evening sun <br />And taste the sweet fruits of a sober life.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-love-sonnets-of-proteus-part-iv-vita-nova-c/
