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WHEN I shall be divorced, some ten years hence, From this poor present self which I am now; When youth has done its tedious vain expense Of passions that for ever ebb and flow; Shall I not joy youth’s heats are left behind, And breathe more happy in an even clime? Ah no! for then I shall begin to find A thousand virtues in this hated time. Then I shall wish its agitations back, And all its thwarting currents of desire; Then I shall praise the heat which then I lack, And call this hurrying fever, generous fire, And sigh that one thing only has been lent To youth and age in common—discontent. |