youth (n.)
- adolescence
- adolescent
- baby
- babyhood
- birth
- boy
- boyhood
- bub
- buck
- bud
- buddy
- callowness
- chick
- child
- childhood
- children
- chit
- colt
- cradle
- cub
- damsel
- demoiselle
- fellow
- fledgling
- genesis
- girl
- girlhood
- greenness
- hobbledehoy
- hopeful
- immaturity
- inception
- incipience
- incipiency
- inexperience
- infancy
- infant
- junior
- juvenal
- juvenile
- juvenility
- kid
- lad
- laddie
- lass
- lassie
- mademoiselle
- maid
- maiden
- master
- minor
- minority
- moppet
- nascence
- nascency
- nativity
- origin
- origination
- parturition
- pregnancy
- prime
- puberty
- pubescence
- pup
- puppy
- sapling
- schoolboy
- schoolgirl
- slip
- sonny
- sprig
- spring
- springtide
- springtime
- stripling
- tad
- teen
- teenager
- whelp
- whippersnapper
- young
- younger
- youngster
- youthfulness
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free.
His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
O time too swift! Oh swiftness never ceasing!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd;
Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd;
The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd,
And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When youth and I lived in 't together.
A long, long kiss,—a kiss of youth and love.
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear it?—No! 't was but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
The sleepless soul that perished in his pride;
Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
Following his plough, along the mountain-side.
By our own spirits we are deified;
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness,
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
The disappointment of manhood succeeds to the delusion of youth: let us hope that the heritage of old age is not despair.
Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power, in the beauties of holiness from the womb of the morning: thou hast the dew of thy youth.
He was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
She swore, in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange.
'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful;
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That Heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used.
Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do ingloriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple: who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?
All those instances to be found in history, whether real or fabulous, of a doubtful public spirit, at which morality is perplexed, reason is staggered, and from which affrighted Nature recoils, are their chosen and almost sole examples for the instruction of their youth.
On his bold visage middle age
Had slightly press'd its signet sage,
Yet had not quench'd the open truth
And fiery vehemence of youth:
Forward and frolic glee was there,
The will to do, the soul to dare.
I'm weary of conjectures,—this must end 'em.
Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me:
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.
The very flower of youth.
The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience.
Hark! to the hurried question of despair:
"Where is my child?"—an echo answers, "Where?"
He was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
In my hot youth, when George the Third was king.
Of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.
In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
For a bright manhood, there is no such word
As "fail."
Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret.
He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny, and youth is vain,
And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.
Learning is ever in the freshness of its youth, even for the old.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself'scapes not calumnious strokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,—
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;
Another race the following spring supplies:
They fall successive, and successive rise.
See how the world its veterans rewards!
A youth of frolics, an old age of cards.
How blest is he who crowns in shades like these
A youth of labour with an age of ease!
Have you found your life distasteful?
My life did, and does, smack sweet.
Was your youth of pleasure wasteful?
Mine I saved and hold complete.
Do your joys with age diminish?
When mine fail me, I 'll complain.
Must in death your daylight finish?
My sun sets to rise again.
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute.
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows;
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Our youth we can have but to-day,
We may always find time to grow old.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
"I fly from pleasure," said the prince, "because pleasure has ceased to please; I am lonely because I am miserable, and am unwilling to cloud with my presence the happiness of others."
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth.
Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.
So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, Thou must,
The youth replies, I can!
A very riband in the cap of youth.
Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I 'll protect it now.
As full-blown poppies, overcharg'd with rain,
Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain,—
So sinks the youth; his beauteous head, deprest
Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast.
We have some salt of our youth in us.
When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome
Outlives in fame the pious fool that rais'd it.
This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny, and youth is vain,
And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.
Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust!
'T is now the summer of your youth. Time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
To many a youth and many a maid
Dancing in the chequer'd shade.
A youth to whom was given
So much of earth, so much of heaven.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellions hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
O time too swift! Oh swiftness never ceasing!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
The sleepless soul that perished in his pride;
Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
Following his plough, along the mountain-side.
By our own spirits we are deified;
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness,
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
He wears the rose
Of youth upon him.
Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.
He whom the gods favour dies in youth.
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,—
And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
Whoso neglects learning in his youth, loses the past and is dead for the future.
In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare!
A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.
