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Rudyard Kipling - To The Companions
Work rating: Low

How comes it that, at even-tide,
When level beams should show most truth,
Man, failing, takes unfailing pride
In memories of his frolic youth?

Venus and Liber fill their hour;
The games engage, the law-courts prove;
Till hardened life breeds love of power
Or Avarice, Age`s final love.

Yet at the end, these comfort not - 
Nor any triumph Fate decrees - 
Compared with glorious, unforgot - 
Ten innocent enormities 

Of frontless days before the beard,
When, instant on the casual jest,
The God Himself of Mirth appeared
And snatched us to His heaving breast

And we - not caring who He was 
But certain He would come again - 
Accepted all He brought to pass
As Gods accept the lives of men… 

Then He withdrew from sight and speech,
Nor left a shrine. How comes it now,
While Charon`s keel grates on the beach,
He calls so clear: "Rememberest thou?"
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