Author Theodore Wratislaw There is no truth like this — Love flies when youth has flown. The lips of youth alone Are worth a kiss. Turn thy full lips' red flame To mine, that thirst: give way For youth's sweet sake — and lay On Love the blame! Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments