Youth is Wasted



Youth is wasted on the young,

The shriveled Mr Siward said:

The final strains he ever sung


From his deathbed.



Wisdom’s wasted on the old,

Cried she: as, watching him depart,

The young man, with her folly

in his careless hold,


Devoured her heart.



My brother once wrote a very similar poem, in the second verse of which the “young” character fails an exam, causing him to rue a lack of knowledge, wasted on his elders. I decided to twist this, and put the focus on romantic wisdom. I also decided to stretch the otherwise simple rhythm for the final stanza, dragging out the ordeal for her, to wrench out her heart. 


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