Joyously launched on life's untravelled streams,
Youth fears nor open sea nor treacherous bay;
Gay voyager, whose wildly devious way
Fond hope and fancy cheer with mingled gleams.
Yet fondly deem not thou those cloudless beams
That hail thy morn shall wait thy closing day;
Autumnal storms must rend the blooms of May,
And life's first blisses fade like very dreams.
Then blest are they, who, at the current's head,
Have quaffed the gushing waters cold and clear,
Nor tracked them downward to their oozy bed;
Inhaled the morning zephyr's freshening breath,
Then, ere the gathering winds of night they hear,
Seek peacefully the silent couch of Death.

More verses by John Kenyon