Youth

A boy’s will is the wind’s will

The beat generation.

Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace.

For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,

It is better to be seventy years young than forty years old!

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

The Youth of a Nation are the trustees of Posterity.

Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle; Old Age a regret.

O yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she,

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;

I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

My love she’s but a lassie yet.

Sweet wine of youth.

Young men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for execution than for counsel, and fitter for new projects than for settled business.

We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.

I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it.

We have done with Hope and Honor, we are lost to Love and Truth, We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung; And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. God help us, for we knew the worst too young!

The untented Kosmos my abode, I pass, a willful stranger; My mistress still the open road And the bright eyes of danger.

What have you done, you there Weeping without cease, Tell me, yes you, what have you done With all your youth? 3

Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.

We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!

A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.