This night is young, but I am not,
So I go now to bed.
But I’ll be long awake before
You lift your sweet young head.
I once believed the night belonged
To me and my young friends.
Now I am old and know the fruits
Of night’s long other end.
Before the dawn I’ll be awake
With mind and eye both clear;
And so to work and words I’ll go,
My mind kicked into gear.
My younger days were spent in talk,
In drinking and in laughter,
And thus I wasted night’s best hours
In day’s worst mornings after.
Too soon so old? Too late so smart?
I would not say it’s so.
Instead I love this later fire
More than I could have known.
So as I watch this youth-adoring
Culture lose its mind,
I know there’s hope because peace hides
In age for them to find.