OH! GIVE ME BACK.
Oh! give me back my childhood years,
The friends that are no more,
Youth's golden dreams, free from glum fears,
The balmy days of yore.
The friends that are no more,
Youth's golden dreams, free from glum fears,
The balmy days of yore.
I'd rather sport in life's fair spring,
Chasing the butterfly,
Than win and love some beauteous thing,
Only to see it die.
Chasing the butterfly,
Than win and love some beauteous thing,
Only to see it die.
Our dearest hopes will, one by one,
Pass far beyond our sight,
And pleasures vanish soon as won,
Like day fades into night.
Pass far beyond our sight,
And pleasures vanish soon as won,
Like day fades into night.
For all that fortune can bestow,
Like fairy gifts must fade,
The days and years as quickly go;
Toil with vain hopes is paid.
Like fairy gifts must fade,
The days and years as quickly go;
Toil with vain hopes is paid.
And in ambition's gilded cup,
Is e'er a bitter draught
For her fond votaries to sup;
Her shrine's with sorrow fraught.
Is e'er a bitter draught
For her fond votaries to sup;
Her shrine's with sorrow fraught.
So give me back my childhood's years,
Heart light as thistle-down,
And eyes undimmed with rising tears,
The joys in childhood known.
Heart light as thistle-down,
And eyes undimmed with rising tears,
The joys in childhood known.