105 Lyrics

For many hawks are plunging
Upon the summer air,
And still the mice are creeping,
And still the world is fair.

A necessary evil
Is portioned to the heart;
We might as well acknowledge
The devil from the start
And know the hasty blossom

As swiftly will decay,
While others flowers are waiting
To grace a forward day.

It is foolish to have wisdom
And folly to be blind;
To see and take and question
Must nourish any mind;
Reserve a quiet judgement
Until the heart is old,
When fewer words are needed
Before the tale is told.