Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave. Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight. All that was best in us gladly we gave, Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height. Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers: Harden our hearts to him -- on let us press! Oh, what a triumph and pride shall be ours! See where it beacons, the star of success!
Cares seem to crowd on us -- so much to do; New fields to conquer, and time's on the wing. Grey hairs are showing, a wrinkle or two; Somehow our footstep is losing its spring. Pleasure's forsaken us, Love ceased to smile; Youth has been funeralled; Age travels fast. Sometimes we wonder: is it worth while? There! we have gained to the summit at last.
Aye, we have triumphed! Now must we haste, Revel in victory . . . why! what is wrong? Life's choicest vintage is flat to the taste -- Are we too late? Have we laboured too long? Wealth, power, fame we hold . . . ah! but the truth: Would we not give this vain glory of ours For one mad, glad year of glorious youth, Life in the Springtide, and Love in the flowers.