Losses

Youth is leaving me; but daily

By new courage it's replaced ;

And my bold arm circles gaily

Many a young and slender waist.

Some were shocked and others pouted;

Some grew wroth—but none denied.

Flattery has always routed

Lovely shame and stubborn pride.

Yet the best is gone. Too late, I'd

Give my soul for it, in truth.

Can it be the blundering, great-eyed,

Sweet stupidity of youth?