His Youth

"Dying?    I am not dying?    Are you mad?
    You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
I think you are a fiend, who would be glad
    To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.

"But, man, you lie! for I am strong - in truth
    Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
    My glorious youth - life's one great priceless boon.

"O youth, youth, youth!    O God! that golden time,
    When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
    I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.

"But I'm not old!    I grew - just ill, somehow;
    Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness.    I am better now,
    Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.

"And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
    To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
    As I lay thinking of my glorious past.

"You shake your head?    Why, man, if you were sane
    I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
    How dare you say I have outlived my youth?

"'In heaven I may regain it'?    Oh, be still!
    I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill -
    O youth, youth, youth! it is my youth I crave.

"There is no heaven!    There's nothing but a deep
    And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
    Perhaps we lie and think as I have here.

"Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
    And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying!    I am not.
    I would curse God if such a thing could be.

"Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath -
    Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?"
A cry - a fall - the silence known as death
    Hushed his wild words.    Well, has he found his youth?