CCIX

“Sixteen is old enough to know respect,”

I told to youths whose ruckus was awake.

“You’re more than men, so stop this daft affect

and show decorum for your own pride’s sake.”

I left with all that huff that they might learn

to think of others sooner than themselves.

But soon my conscience up and took its turn

who deep inside the heart’s soft tables delves.

“How still the blind lead on the blind, it seems,”

it said to me as I continued on.

“How old are you? And have you checked for beams

within your eyes? Are you a better son?”

So, true, respect is offered at sixteen,

but this one, twenty-eight, is just as mean.