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remembrance.
Alas! since then, I've followed far
Full many a painted toy;
And found it like the gilded moth
That lured the truant boy.
Full many a painted toy;
And found it like the gilded moth
That lured the truant boy.
Oh! give me back my boyhood!
Let me feel the keen delight
Of a kite upon the summer gale,
Like an eagle in its flight,—
The bounding ball, the flying race,
The arrow on the wing—
The old man's heart can vibrate still
If memory touch the string.
Let me feel the keen delight
Of a kite upon the summer gale,
Like an eagle in its flight,—
The bounding ball, the flying race,
The arrow on the wing—
The old man's heart can vibrate still
If memory touch the string.
I see the old green meadows,
Where of yore I used to stray;
They have lost methinks their verdure,
And my play-mates where are they?
The grass is green o'er many a brow,
That wore no shadow then—
And the rest, have changed from merry boys,
To strange, cold-hearted men.
Where of yore I used to stray;
They have lost methinks their verdure,
And my play-mates where are they?
The grass is green o'er many a brow,
That wore no shadow then—
And the rest, have changed from merry boys,
To strange, cold-hearted men.
