A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

I care not that one listen if he lives

For aught but life’s romance, nor puts above

All life’s necessities the need to love,

Nor counts his greatest wealth what Beauty gives.

But sometime on an afternoon in spring,

When dandelions dot the fields with gold,

And under rustling shade a few weeks old

‘Tis sweet to stroll and hear the bluebirds sing,

Do you, blond head, whom beauty and the power

Of being young and winsome have prepared

For life’s last privilege that really pays,

Make the companion of an idle hour

These relics of the time when I too fared

Across the sweet fifth lustrum of my days.

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Alan Seeger
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