When I blink sunshine in my eyes And hail the amber morn, Before the rosy dew-drop dries With sparkle on the thorn; When boughs with robin rapture ring, And bees hum in the may,-- Then call me young, with heart of Spring, Though I be grey. But when no more I know the joy And urgence of that hour, As like a happy-hearted boy I leap to land aflower; When gusto I no longer feel, To rouse with glad hooray,-- Then call me old and let me steal From men away. Let me awaken with a smile And go to garden glee, For there is such a little while Of living left to me; But when star-wist I frail away, Lord, let the hope beguile That to Ecstatic Light I may Awake to smile.