Youth And Age.

"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth, one day,     To drooping Age, who crest his way.--     "It is a sunny hour of play,     "For which repentance dear doth pay;         "Repentance! Repentance!     "And this is Love, as wise men say."     "Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth once more,     Fearful, yet fond, of Age's lore.--     "Soft as a passing summer's wind,     "Wouldst know the blight it leaves behind?         "Repentance! Repentance!     "And this is Love--when love is o'er."     "Tell me, what's Love? "said Youth again,     Trusting the bliss, but not the pain.     "Sweet as a May tree's scented air--     "Mark ye what bitter fruit 'twill bear,         "Repentance! Repentance!     "This, this is Love--sweet Youth, beware."     Just then, young Love himself came by,     And cast on Youth a smiling eye;     Who could resist that glance's ray?     In vain did Age his warning say,         "Repentance! Repentance!"     Youth laughing went with Love away.