Juenesse Doree

The guilded morning's
first light fell across
the placid lake,
Where through the mist
that lightly hung,
a torpid breeze
sedate,
Stirred the live oaks
where the moss
That swayed like cobweds,
homes long lost,
(Like a dreamer's fears
that all him of his
dreams had cost)
His will to live within
the die he cast that's
now become his fate.

The gilded youth of vernal
Spring's first starlight
pierced the sky,
Her sisters like a billion
sparks, of the velvet
welken's eye,
Grew as dusk faded to black,
And vanishing clouds depart
their golden flax;
Reflecting the full
moon's knack:
Imperfect light illuming
with a soft elusive
flirting sigh.

The humid cloak of
vaporous mist rising
from the sheen
Of a vitriolic surface
of an angry lake,
though placid and serene!
Plunged my heart into
its depths of waters black,

But with odd comfort bade to me:
Thy youth shall not come back.
Twas a gilded youth
that I thought I lacked.