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FLOWER OF YOUTH
Oh, the Temple's down! all marred
Gay and golden boys must lie:
Bitter-sweet as spikenard
Is the old name we called them by.
Hush! God's Temple in its fall
Breaks to set the spirit free
From the golden cage and thrall
Into heaven-winged liberty.
From the cage the bird is flown,
Sings so high above our sphere.
Hush,—be never a sigh or moan:
The fledged bird flies without fear.
All our loves are gathered in,
Every gay and golden lad;
On new raiment, white and clean,
They behold God and are glad.
