Poem about Youth

Youth is not a time of Life, it is a state of mind.

It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, supple knees; 
it is a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; 
it is a freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, 
of the appetite of adventure over the love of ease.

This often exists in a man of fifty more than a boy of twenty.

Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years; 
people grow old only by deserting their ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.

Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair, these are the long, 
long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.

Whether seventy or seventeen there is in every being's heart the love of wonder, 
the sweet amazement of the stars and starlight things and thoughts, 
the undaunted challenge of events, 
the unfailing child-like appetite for what is next and the joy and the game of life.

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; 
as young as your self -confidence, as old as your fear; 
as young as your hope, as old as your despair.

In the central place of your heart there is a sensitive station.

So long as it receives messages of beauty hope, cheer, 
grandeur, courage and power from the earth, 
from men and from the infinite, 
so long are you young.