I WHEN, catching his own glance, he analysed What stared so impolitely from the mirror, He wondered if he earnestly despised That callow face. Or did he hold it dearer Because, unlike his classmates, he preferred Talk of autumnal women, always mellow, Or boys, with whom his well-considered word Not always marked him as a crazy fellow? II Their naked, small ambitions are disgusting; They prize the world's poor business more than peace; They have no virtue but their charm; encrusting Their speech with filth, they ape senilities. — Waiting for age to make him less uncouth, He dared condemn too harshly their conceit, And, blaming their inevitable youth, Condemned himself as well, and owns — defeat. |