Your Own Fair Youth

Your own fair youth, you care so little for it-- Smiling towards Heaven, you would not stay the advances Of time and change upon your happiest fancies. I keep your golden hour, and will restore it.

If ever, in time to come, you would explore it-- Your old self, whose thoughts went like last year's pansies, Look unto me; no mirror keeps its glances; In my unfailing praises now I store it.

To guard all joys of yours from Time's estranging, I shall be then a treasury where your gay, Happy, and pensive past unaltered is.

I shall be then a garden charmed from changing, In which your June has never passed away. Walk there awhile among my memories.