George Faunce Whitcomb

“ Old men write and sing of Love's entrancing vale,
Whose perfumed bowers they knew so well;
And strive with memory's blessed arms to scale
The fortress where young romances dwell.
Young men write and ponder on philosophy,
Whose vagueness sharpens their intent
To fathom Life's overwhelming mystery,
To taste Fame's semblance of content.
What a piteous sight as old men try to pen
The wondrous spirit of romance ”