The years of Youth.
[W. Alexander.]
Oh! the wild roving years of youth are all flown away,
As gay romantic morning dreams before the dawn of day,
And calmer joys, and deeper thoughts, and love which may not roam,
Are blending with the sunny smiles that cheer the scenes of home.
The gazing crowd, what is it now? its praise we cannot prize—
The flattering slave perchance we hear, but silently despise—
The loud, yet passing peal of mirth, which rang in bower or hall—
One faithful heart's affection won—is worth a world of all.
When first the upland fountain bursts upon the plain, 'tis seen
Divided as a thousand streams, in bright yet varied sheen;
But soon they seek some kindred course, which, deep'ning as they glide
The boundless main alone may change their sweetly mingled tide.
'Tis thus with life, a thousand hopes our youthful thoughts divide,
Till all their glowing energies in one dear wish subside;
Oh! break not then the spell which e'en to joy adds new delight,
And robes creation's fairest forms with beauty still more bright!