Maturity seems not to wait,
As if sensing it may not take,
For I have prolonged its time
And wished away its risen fate.
Not a breed of elder men have seen
Their equal in such a young boy.
Mine years show much more,
Than empty ideas upon to toy.
Seek not the death of the childhood
But the appendage of a new retort
Of growth and of wisdom;
And intuition of a splendid sort.
I may lose my boyish charms
Soon after my passage into age.
Yet, allow me stay a pillar of youth,
So I may act its protector and sage.
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