For works with similar titles, see Youth.
YOUTH.
In the days of our youth is a glow and a feeling,
Which never on life's chequered path may return;
For the world is all brightness and beauty revealing,
Ere its guilt or its coldness have taught us to mourn.
There 's a mirth in our smiles, and a balm in our tears,
An unbroken hope, and a lightness of heart,
Which seldom, or never, futurity wears,
When the freshness of being begins to depart.
Which never on life's chequered path may return;
For the world is all brightness and beauty revealing,
Ere its guilt or its coldness have taught us to mourn.
There 's a mirth in our smiles, and a balm in our tears,
An unbroken hope, and a lightness of heart,
Which seldom, or never, futurity wears,
When the freshness of being begins to depart.
All nature is drest in our own lovely dreams,
And we image a vision surpassingly fan,
And we climb o'er the mountains, or he by the streams,
As free as the flowers and the waters from care:
And the tears of the day are effaced, by the sweetness
That waits on a calm and unbroken repose;
And day after day, in its innocent fleetness,
Brings joy m its rising, and peace in its close.
And we image a vision surpassingly fan,
And we climb o'er the mountains, or he by the streams,
As free as the flowers and the waters from care:
And the tears of the day are effaced, by the sweetness
That waits on a calm and unbroken repose;
And day after day, in its innocent fleetness,
Brings joy m its rising, and peace in its close.
But time with its coldness effaces the charm;
The flowers are as fair, and the lakes are as bright,
But, alas! the young feelings, so lovely and warm,
No longer are there to inspire the delight;
And sorrows and cares, which young life never knew,
Come breathing their mist o'er the heart and the eye,
And we turn to the days which so rapidly flew,
With a throb of the heart, with a tear, and a sigh!
The flowers are as fair, and the lakes are as bright,
But, alas! the young feelings, so lovely and warm,
No longer are there to inspire the delight;
And sorrows and cares, which young life never knew,
Come breathing their mist o'er the heart and the eye,
And we turn to the days which so rapidly flew,
With a throb of the heart, with a tear, and a sigh!