To Our Eldest Hope: On His Assuming the Trouser Viritis

BUT, Charles! have some compunctions! could you not
Progress a thought more slow?
Think how you dallied with a train of cars
Less than a year ago!
Forgive that rash reminder; but reflect,
Time’s checkerboard is stern;
It freely grants the forward move, but not
The Prodigal return.
Ah! pretermit a little of your pride,
A little while, your joy;
To please the dotage of our two-score years,
Be twelve more hours a boy!