His Youth

"Dying?    I am not dying?    Are you mad?          You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?     I think you are a fiend, who would be glad          To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.     "But, man, you lie! for I am strong - in truth          Stronger than I have been in years; and soon     I shall feel young again as in my youth,          My glorious youth - life's one great priceless boon.     "O youth, youth, youth!    O God! that golden time,          When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.     Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)          I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.     "But I'm not old!    I grew - just ill, somehow;          Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.     It was but sickness.    I am better now,          Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.     "And I could weep warm floods of happy tears          To think my strength is coming back at last,     For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,          As I lay thinking of my glorious past.     "You shake your head?    Why, man, if you were sane          I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.     How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?          How dare you say I have outlived my youth?     "'In heaven I may regain it'?    Oh, be still!          I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.     Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill -          O youth, youth, youth! it is my youth I crave.     "There is no heaven!    There's nothing but a deep          And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.     I am not sure of even rest or sleep;          Perhaps we lie and think as I have here.     "Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,          And hear the young above us laugh in glee.     How dare you say I'm dying!    I am not.          I would curse God if such a thing could be.     "Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath -          Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?"     A cry - a fall - the silence known as death          Hushed his wild words.    Well, has he found his youth?