Sometimes I think life's best is middle age, When the poetry of youth and prose of years Are written both together on life's page, When youth impetuous is checked by fears, When childhood dreams are realized, or forgot, When first there comes a glimpse of Heaven's plan, A realization of that sublime thought, The Infinite made manifest in man. When gilded halls attract not more than do The sombre naves of cloisters reared to God, When pity, love, and thoughts that they imbue Have taught us to respect the chastening rod; When love's synonymous with God and truth, When Hope shines to us like a glittering star. Then middle age, the salf-way time, gives proof To me at least that it is best by far. |