Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

252
Chapter Six
XXXVI

My friends, you're sorry for the poet: in the bloom of glad hopes, not having yet fulfilled them for the world, 4 scarce out of infant clothes, withered! Where is the ardent stir, the noble aspiration of young emotions and young thoughts, 8 exalted, tender, bold? Where are love's turbulent desires, the thirst for knowledges and work, the dread of vice and shame, 12 and you, fond musings, you, [token] of unearthly life, you, dreams of sacred poetry!