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Youth is pleasure ,Youth is pleasure ,
Impresses Shakespeare ,
Through Feste in Twelfth Night ,
But when old age comes ,
Youth slips and gets benumbed ,
The burden of inertia leaves the memory ,
The apparent permanence, withers from story .
And , yet if youth is redirected ,
From daily sex ,and money’s get ,
And turns a farmer to plough body’s divine ,
Youth would be glorified , and refined .
If the parasites of life are uprooted ,
The divine tree begins to manifest ,
Men and women discover in them ,
The possession of subtle body ,
For which they were really destined .
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