He was a boy of April beauty; one
Who had not tried the world; who, while the sun
Flamed yet upon the eastern sky, was done.
Time would have brought him in her patient ways —
So his young beauty spoke — to prosperous days,
To fulness of authority and praise.
He would not wait so long. A boy, he spent
His boy’ s dear life for England. Be content:
No honour of age had been more excellent.