Youth Is Wasted On The Young Poem by Harley White

We heard it said repeatedly,
in adage olden and far-flung,
through springs misspent too heatedly,
that youth is wasted on the young.

Our ‘salad days' of judgment green
found life a song to still be sung,
a wanton time when slate seemed clean.
Ah, youth is wasted on the young.

If mad pursuits of senseless aims
left us ‘at sea', burned-out, unstrung,
from revelry in ‘fun and games',
then youth is wasted on the young.

When ages past maturity
those words oft heard have freshly stung,
we see with blinding surety
that youth is wasted on the young.

Yet, wiser than we were before,
we heed the chimes at midnight rung
and anchor vagaries ashore.
Aye, youth is wasted on the young.

We seek enlightened paths to know
and glory just to dwell among
the blossoms of an inner glow.
Oh, youth is wasted on the young.

And golden years bring different dream,
when passion's lost her silver tongue,
for lasting peace to reign supreme.
Yes, youth is wasted on the young.



< June 17,2015 >