When I blink sunshine in my eyes
 And hail the amber morn,
Before the rosy dew-drop dries
 With sparkle on the thorn;
When boughs with robin rapture ring,
 And bees hum in the may,--
Then call me young, with heart of Spring,
 Though I be grey.
 
But when no more I know the joy
 And urgence of that hour,
As like a happy-hearted boy
 I leap to land aflower;
When gusto I no longer feel,
 To rouse with glad hooray,--
Then call me old and let me steal
 From men away.

Let me awaken with a smile
 And go to garden glee,
For there is such a little while
 Of living left to me;
But when star-wist I frail away,
 Lord, let the hope beguile
That to Ecstatic Light I may
 Awake to smile.