Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 173

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CLXXIII YOUTH'S DYING
Die, Youth, die, there are none to lament thee,
 Those that have loved thee, think thee living yet.
Hues as of life their blind love hath lent thee.
      Ah, they forget!

Well hast thou fought, yea, mightily hast striven;
 Those that have loved thee shall not know how hard
Earth bore thee down, and Hell and highest Heaven,
      Wounded and scarred.

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Die, Youth, die, for I cannot bear thy dying!
 Life's Death-in-Life, and Death is all in all.
See the dead leaves from the barren trees are flying,
      Hark, the winds call!

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