To Youth

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WHERE art thou gone, light-ankled Youth?
  With wing at either shoulder,
And smile that never left thy mouth
  Until the Hours grew colder:

Then somewhat seem’d to whisper near  
  That thou and I must part;
I doubted it; I felt no fear,
  No weight upon the heart.

If aught befell it, Love was by
  And roll’d it off again;  
So, if there ever was a sigh,
  ’T was not a sigh of pain.

I may not call thee back; but thou
  Returnest when the hand
Of gentle Sleep waves o’er my brow  
  His poppy-crested wand;

Then smiling eyes bend over mine,
  Then lips once press’d invite;
But sleep hath given a silent sign,
  And both, alas! take flight.  

© Walter Savage Landor