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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