Wisdom Cometh with the Years

Now I am young and credulous, My heart is quick to bleed At courage in the tremulous Slow sprouting of a seed.

Now I am young and sensitive, Man’s lack can stab me through; I own no stitch I would not give To him that asked me to.

Now I am young and a fool for love, My blood goes mad to see A brown girl pass me like a dove That flies melodiously.

Let me be lavish of my tears, And dream that false is true; Though wisdom cometh with the years, The barren days come, too.