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is there none such
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bow or brooch or braid or brace,
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latch or catch or key to keep,
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keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty from vanishing away.
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O is there no frowning of these ranked wrinkles deep down?
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No waving off of these most mournful messengers...
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Still messengers sad and stealing messengers of grey.
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No, there's none, there’s none.
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Nor can you long be what you now are, called fair.
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Do what you may do, do what you may.
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Wisdom is early to despair.
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So, be beginning..."