Odes Of Anacreon: Golden hues of youth are fled...
Golden hues of youth are fled...
by Thomas Moore
Golden hues of youth are fled;
Hoary locks deform my head.
Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,
All the flowers of life decay,
Withering age begins to trace
Sad memorials o'er my face;
Time has shed its sweetest bloom,
All the future must be gloom!
This awakes my hourly sighing;
Dreary is the thought of dying!
Pluto's is a dark abode,
Sad the journey, sad the road;
And, the gloomy travel o'er,
Ah! we can return no more!
Source:
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.