On Her Seventeenth Birthday.
Now has rich time brought you a gift of gold— A long sweet year which you can shape at will, And deck with roses warm, or with the chill And heartless lilies—God gives strength to mould Our days, and lives, with fingers firm and bold, And make them noble, straight and clean from ill, Though few are willing, and their years they fill With dross which they regret when they are old. What splendid hours of your life are these When youth and childhood wander hand in hand, And give you freely all which best can please— Laughter and friends and dreams of Fairyland! Mourn not the seasons past with useless tears, But greet the pleasure of the coming years! France, 1917.