The spring must ripen, and the summer’s warning

That autumn shall not linger more than May;

Thou too must change, developed till all love thee,

And yet a change shall hover just above thee.

{8}

{8}

VIII.

If thou must change, beauty shall form the groove,

And nourish promise in a firmer mould,

Which, all unchequered, onward still shall move,

Informed with wisdom and in virtue old:

Thus shalt thou live, but no, what years can add

To the keen edge of thy unbated mind?

Or what hath wisdom, more than reason had,

When in thy form she mustered all her kind?

Within the acorn lies the oak’s whole essence,

Man can accomplish but what in man dwells;

The iron that supples with its incalescence,

Yet wears the nature that its coldness tells;

So, yet unfashioned, in thy youth reposes

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