'Listen! When your hair, like mine, br Takes a tint of silver gray; br When your eyes, with dimmer shine, br Watch life's bubbles float away: br br When you, young man, have borne like me br The weary weight of sixty-three, br Then shall penance sore be paid br For those hours so wildly squandered; br And the words that now fall dead br On your ear, be deeply pondered— br Pondered and approved at last: br But their virtue will be past! br br 'Glorious is the prize of Duty, br Though she be 'a serious power'; br Treacherous all the lures of Beauty, br Thorny bud and poisonous flower! br br 'Mirth is but a mad beguiling br Of the golden-gifted time; br Love—a demon-meteor, wiling br Heedless feet to gulfs of crime. br br 'Those who follow earthly pleasure, br Heavenly knowledge will not lead; br Wisdom hides from them her treasure, br Virtue bids them evil-speed! br br 'Vainly may their hearts repenting. br Seek for aid in future years; br Wisdom, scorned, knows no relenting; br Virtue is not won by fears.' br br Thus spake the ice-blooded elder gray; br The young man scoffed as he turned away, br Turned to the call of a sweet lute's measure, br Waked by the lightsome touch of pleasure: br Had he ne'er met a gentler teacher, br Woe had been wrought by that pitiless preacher.