Youth Arise

Fair youth, arise and claim the prize!

Oh harken to the dulcet voice

Of wisdom in its blissful charm

Awakening you at life’s fair dawn.

Hope greets you at the dawn of day

And implores you not to go astray

And if you do not heed her voice

You will later pay an awful price.

Midday shall fail to find you well

If in the morning you rebel

When you indeed could otherwise

Spend your morning searching for the prize.

The morning hours is not to sleep

Then wait for night, the vigil to keep

Utilize at morn your youthful strength

Or lament and cry when day is spent.

And there beneath its gloomy spell

At evening you’ll be forced to tell

How much you’ve come to realize

That you at dawn had missed the prize.

Just look at how you’re young and strong

You can lift the world with just one hand

And all the old and ageing men

Upon your youthful strength depend.

In these your youthful years be wise

To the call to duty, friend arise

For with each succeeding year you’ll prove

That what you do not use you lose.

You may be told you have no clue

But for your own sake I wish you do

For there’s so much that you stand to lose

If the prize-filled trail you don’t pursue.

If unaware you spend these years

In reckless pursuits with your peers

In the passing of time you will be stunned

At how quickly the hours of evening come.

Oh, why would you forgo the fun?

To claim the prize when you are young

And be held high for others to see

What they can all turn out to be.

Oh think of those in honour’s glare

Who pursued the prize while day was fair

In their youthful years they realized

That it’s the very best time to earn the prize.

Vile men have tried to turn them back

And all their toil belittled and mocked

But in pursuits of such fine goals

They ignored such errant evil souls.

And when the morning of their years

Moved on to hail the next frontier

With satisfaction they could say

“I’m glad I toiled at break of day.”

And quite a prize it is my friend,

That some have craved at evening’s end

Realizing what in youth they missed

Was not a passing tale or myth.

The prizes you are told to fetch

Do require you to tip and stretch

But why should you back down from such

When you could, my friend, acquire so much?

And true it is you’re made to dig

Or face the steam beneath the lid

But by now you should have realized

That it costs something to gain the prize.

Your youthful years will soon be past

And treasures slipped from out your grasp

Will not be easily regained

For younger ones will such loots claim.

Face to face at last with truth

Some realize the years of youth

Is the time when all should search and find

The gold that’s buried in their prime.