Life Poem
Is this Life?
- YOUNG.
LOVE, thou sportive fickle boy,
Source of anguish, child of joy,
Ever wounding*ever smiling,
Soothing still, and still beguiling;
What are all thy boasted treasures,
Tender sorrows, transient pleasures?
Anxious hopes, and jealous fears,
LAUGHING HOURS, and...