The fire of love in youthful blood,
Like what is kindled in brushwood,
But for a moment burns;
Yet in that moment makes a mighty noise;
It crackles, and to vapor turns,
And soon itself destroys.
But when crept into aged veins
It slowly burns, and then long remains,
And with a silent heat,
Like fire in logs, it glows and warms ’em long,
And though the flame be not so great,
Yet is the heat as strong.
From: http://www.poetryexplorer.net/poem.php?id=10123591
Date: 1690
By: Charles Sackville (1638-1706)
From Troubles of The World 