Fountain of Youth        

 
Beauty, fleeting, goes:

Body still remains:

Pleasures turn to pains.

 

Fair hair like August wheat

Gone utterly away:

Where was gold is grey.

 

Those eyes that seemed like stars

Dim and grow lustreless -

Pale planets in distress.

 

Ears? Were they not shells

Where echoed nightingales?

No music there prevails.

 

That nose, which once stood

Out like ivory carved

Fully, is much starved.

 

And lips - ah, yes, lips

Moulded just for joy

Thin anxious smiles deploy.

 

The Grecian hoplite’s chin

Dissolves in Roman folds:

No antique muscle holds.

 

Now all which flows away

From that once flawless face

Lacks form, lacks grace.

 

Body still remains.

Bereft of beauty, sad:

Work of art gone bad.

 

So aged Adam pays,

Turned out of Paradise,

The wrinkled apple’s price.

 

And death waits at the core:

Ruin roundly wrought:

Pride minused down to nought.

 

If you and I were old

Might we not despair -

This winter in the air?

 

But Second Adam wins

A second life of grace:

Once more a sculptured face.

 

All is given again,

Glorious and sure -

Gold hair that will endure.

 

See Adam without guile:

See you and I among

The old forever young.

 

Beauty will be ours,

Embodied and with art:

Also a loving heart.

 

Kyrie Splendens! Rise

Triumphant over sin:

Happiness will begin.