The Voice Of The Ancient Bard - By William Blake

Youth of delight!  come hither
   And see the opening morn,
   Image of Truth new-born.
   Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
   Dark disputes and artful teazing.
   Folly is an endless maze;
   Tangled roots perplex her ways;
   How many have fallen there!
   They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
   And feel--they know not what but care;
   And wish to lead others, when they should be led.