THE YEARS
Stay, stay, sweet Years, bright circling golden Years
With your glad Summers full of sunbeam smiles
And sobbing Winters wet with raindrop tears,
Your pensive Autumns and the witching wiles
Of Spring-time days, showers, sunbeams, hopes and fears
Weave your fair coronets, ye fleeting Years!
With your glad Summers full of sunbeam smiles
And sobbing Winters wet with raindrop tears,
Your pensive Autumns and the witching wiles
Of Spring-time days, showers, sunbeams, hopes and fears
Weave your fair coronets, ye fleeting Years!
Ah, is it true that ye will come between,
Like a vast, heedless, hurrying multitude,
Between us and the faces that we love,
Crowding us farther, farther, still apart,
Hiding them from us by a darkening screen?
O Years, bright golden Years, must ye intrude
At last in endless bitterness to prove
A mighty barrier, 'twixt heart and heart?
Like a vast, heedless, hurrying multitude,
Between us and the faces that we love,
Crowding us farther, farther, still apart,
Hiding them from us by a darkening screen?
O Years, bright golden Years, must ye intrude
At last in endless bitterness to prove
A mighty barrier, 'twixt heart and heart?
Stay, hurrying Years, why speed away so fast?
Rest your bright wings, for we are happy now,
Ye mock us, for ye say, "It cannot last."
Are Youth's fresh hopes but idle, feverish dreams
That like bright bubbles only soar to break?
Leave us the present, all too fair it seems—
If dreams are happiness why should we wake?
Rest your bright wings, for we are happy now,
Ye mock us, for ye say, "It cannot last."
Are Youth's fresh hopes but idle, feverish dreams
That like bright bubbles only soar to break?
Leave us the present, all too fair it seems—
If dreams are happiness why should we wake?
Already are your dazzling rainbow hues
Changing to pallid spectres grim and gaunt.
Bright Years, will ye your bloom and beauty lose
And like pale ghostly forms life's pathway haunt?
Will ye plow furrows, hard, unlovely lines
Where ruby roses blush and mingle now
With pearly lilies, fragile tenderness,
On lips and cheek and brow?
Will ye crush out with careless, ruthless tread
Changing to pallid spectres grim and gaunt.
Bright Years, will ye your bloom and beauty lose
And like pale ghostly forms life's pathway haunt?
Will ye plow furrows, hard, unlovely lines
Where ruby roses blush and mingle now
With pearly lilies, fragile tenderness,
On lips and cheek and brow?
Will ye crush out with careless, ruthless tread
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