Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит)
A Birthday Rhyme
So glide the days, dear! Dawn will not delay, Noontide will come, nor linger in its flight; And even-time in turn must pass away Into the darkness of a dreamless night. Hold fast, Beloved, thy season of delight: Make merry while the morning gilds the sky, And dews undried upon the roses lie; Thy golden morn of May-time, brief as bright. For labor waits; and cares thou canst not miss; Grief for thy gladness, and for laughter, tears. Ah, love! if only love might spare thee this- Might hold a little farther off the years! - A little longer bind thy winged feet, O youth, -most swift in passing, and most sweet!
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