Speaks the Parrot

“Youth’s a stuff will not endure,”
Truth, a thing that will;
Young at heart may play a part
Falsehood cannot kill.

Love’s a bird will always sing
Sweet in ageing tree;
Death will not be cancelling
Endless love for thee.

Blossomed joy may smile awhile,
Sorrow’s leaves may fall;
April’s ever fresh’ning style—
It outlasts them all.

Spring in age, it grows so sage
Winter’s kept outdoors;
Speaks bald parrot with sharp rage,
“Stuff of youth endures!”

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