 | Poems |  |
226
[O happy days, O months, O years]
O happy days, O months, O years,
Which, even in this dim world of woe,
'Tis now impossible can show
The print of grief, the stain of tears:
Which, even in this dim world of woe,
'Tis now impossible can show
The print of grief, the stain of tears:
O blessëd times, which now no more
Exposed to chance or change remain;
Which having been, no after stain
Can dim the brightness that ye wore;
Exposed to chance or change remain;
Which having been, no after stain
Can dim the brightness that ye wore;
Dark shadows of approaching ill
Fall thick upon life's forward track;
But on its past they stream not back,
What once was bright abides so still.
Fall thick upon life's forward track;
But on its past they stream not back,
What once was bright abides so still.
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