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MY PLAYMATES.
Ah, yes! methinks I see them stand
Before me even now;
I grasp each dear, familiar hand,—
I gaze on each remembered brow.
They are the same—to me the same—
As when I gazed upon them last;
For time can neither dim nor tame
Those visions of the past.
Our hearts may change, our hopes may wane,
Butt hose bright visions will remain.

Though time has passed, with lengthened chain,
And bid some flowers depart,
That blossomed in the smiling train
Which decked the life-wreath of the heart;
The loveliest and the dearest ones
Remain to grace the dying scene,
To mingle their regretful tones
In grief for what has been,
To shed a fragrance o'er the tomb
Of those that rest within its gloom.

Then will the love that shed a beam
Of heaven upon our hearts
Remain, until the last, sweet dream
That lights their darkness up departs;