Calidus Juventa?

Non ego boc ferrem, calidus juventa, Consule Planco.

We are afraid that we have not lived.
We are not afraid of dying.
Toss images to the indifferent morning
Amid laughter and crying —
Amid fitful buffetings of strangled hearts
While they are dying.

Draw tight the words of death shivering
On the strictured page —
The cup of Morgan Fay is shattered.
Life is a bitter sage,
And we are weary infants
In a palsied age.
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