I see those who speak of their life import
I know that they have never tasted Death
And yet sometimes by that selfsame report
They think they know one day they'll draw no breath
They do not arise, gaze within the mirror
They do not deign to think that they are vain
They hold not deep within ***** the fear
That knows they will soon feel Time's waxing pain
But know we not we are one and the same?
For as we bemoan the youth and their faults,
We realize not we have ourselves to blame.
For even we spent time and all for naught.
Alas, it is too late for those to see
Our youth will not retain its own degree