| O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young; | |
| When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age? | |
| World, with thy covering of yellow flowers, | |
| Hast thou forgot what generations sprung | |
| Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone? | 5 |
| Hast thou no place in all their heritage | |
| Where thou dost only weep, that I may come | |
| Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers? | |
| O world, in very truth thou art too young. | |
| The heroic wealth of passionate emprize | 10 |
| Built thee fair cities for thy naked plains: | |
| How hast thou set thy summer growth among | |
| The broken stones which were their palaces! | |
| Hast thou forgot the darkness where he lies | |
| Who made thee beautiful, or have thy bees | 15 |
| Found out his grave to build their honeycombs? | |
| |
| O world, in very truth thou art too young: | |
| They gave thee love who measured out thy skies, | |
| And, when they found for thee another star, | |
| Who made a festival and straightway hung | 20 |
| The jewel on thy neck. O merry world, | |
| Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes | |
| Which first look'd love in thine? Thou hast not furl'd | |
| One banner of thy bridal car for them. | |
| O world, in very truth thou art too young. | 25 |
| There was a voice which sang about thy spring, | |
| Till winter froze the sweetness of his lips, | |
| And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue | |
| Before thy nightingales were come again. | |
| O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing? | 30 |
| Say, has thy merriment no secret pain, | |
| No sudden weariness that thou art young? | |
