Capture youth as youth retains its place
Thought the painter as he looked upon his face

To taste all wondrous gift … Save no expense
My feet to take all paths … Filled rich incense
To breathe the pleasures of the earth … Discarding nothing

His passion he gave to an actress
Played Imogen and Juliet --- she was perfect
Silk thread curls on cool white ivory skin
A goddess so distant had enraptured him

The love that I found on theatre's stage is dead
This prince so charming leads my heart instead
But no, to me you are the loves you've played
If fantasy is dead, the age decays

Parting poison make up falling tears like rain
The wilting helpless snowflake melts inside its grave
Reflected conscience slips away, away, ...away

A dream of form in days of thought
My lost creation rich restored
Will paint your form with every care and grace

You are perfect in everything, as a flower blooms in spring
Releasing madness from within

Beneath this work our very souls do hide
Me of my brush, you of your youth are tied to canvas forever
Fading never...

But evil thoughts turn into twisted life
Resounding through his years
And the portrait sits and now those scarlet lips have suffered changes

Does my eye speak the truth? My wondrous youth

No winter marred his face or stained the flower-like bloom of his skin
Through summer's vine
But wine-like fragrance it fades and it dies
He gazed in the glass and sighed... his thoughts drifted by...

How I wish that I could steal my youth
And the picture bare the age uncouth
(Peter Pan on rooftops dancing ever soaked in youth
Adonis plays innocence in unrevealed truth)

My soul to art I would then betroth; my body left alive unmoved

I can stay youthful for all my life
And the picture I'll keep from the world's peering eyes
My sins it will hold, its face will grow old
And all the people will know not why
My face is young till the day that I die

The gates if the seasons they open and close
And the pathways perfection a faltered repose
An age elf slips free ascending this tree
He sneaks up with ease outstretched arms reaching high
So small but so vital his glistening smile

The face as with fever is stricken
A red bead of dew sickly thickens
Scorching his eyesight the charred wrinkled skin
His mirror of conscience that burdens the sins

"Heaven, helpless, drowned confusion"
A satyr looks down from the frame
Illusion

The blade shines brightly it fills his fingers with hate
A veil of darkness descends it bends to his feet
A life of lust, mistrust decreasing, visions varnished, stripped unseen
Does the eye speak the truth? His wondrous youth