lament of age for boyhood.
89
Give me back but for a moment,
Those happy, happy days!
For the path we tread in manhood,
Is a dim, bewildering maze;
The flowers that bloom the fairest,
Are the earliest to decay;
And the joys we prize the dearest,
Are the first to pass away.
Those happy, happy days!
For the path we tread in manhood,
Is a dim, bewildering maze;
The flowers that bloom the fairest,
Are the earliest to decay;
And the joys we prize the dearest,
Are the first to pass away.
But Oh! the hours of boyhood
Fleet by on pinion's fair;
And the sunshine of untroubled hearts
Makes constant summer there:
For care is but a phantom shade,
To bosoms light and gay;
And sorrow comes, but in the cloud
That dims a holyday.
Fleet by on pinion's fair;
And the sunshine of untroubled hearts
Makes constant summer there:
For care is but a phantom shade,
To bosoms light and gay;
And sorrow comes, but in the cloud
That dims a holyday.
Oh! gaily flew the butterfly
I chased across the lea;
And but to catch the fluttering thing,
Was joy enough for me,—
I chased across the lea;
And but to catch the fluttering thing,
Was joy enough for me,—
