In Age by Edith Nesbit — Read

THE wine of life was rough and new, / But sweet beyond belief, / And wrong was false, and right was true- / The rose was in the leaf.

In that good sunlight well we knew / The hues of wrong and right; / We slept among the roses through / The long enchanted night.

Now to our eyes, made dim with years, / Right intertwines with wrong.

How can we hear, with these tired ears, / The old, the magic song?

But this we know-wine once was red, / Roses were red and dear; / Once in our ears the truths were said / That now the young men hear!