Twenty-One

  The world, all busy round us here of late,
  Is still unchanged: but you are twenty-one.
  The mind, victorious with the rising sun,
  Steps boldly and blithely through the imagined gate
  On greener grass where brighter flowers await
  The quickened senses and the waters run
  With livelier music, and a web is spun
  Of loveliest pattern on the loom of fate.
  Doubt nothing, fare right on with manly trust,
  And know, whatever failures be in store,
  Though all your light seem shimmering blinding haze,
  And flowers and grass fly up in choking dust,
  Better than you can fancy waits before
  For those who find the secret of the maze.