 | Poems |  |
72
OUR BIRTH DAYS.
These are the solemnest days of our bright lives,
When memory and hope within exert
Delightful reign; when sympathy revives,
And that which late was in the soul inert
Grows warm and living; and to us, alone
Are these a knowledge, nowise may they hurt,
Or cry aloud, or frighten out the tone
Which we will strive to wear, and as calm nature own.
When memory and hope within exert
Delightful reign; when sympathy revives,
And that which late was in the soul inert
Grows warm and living; and to us, alone
Are these a knowledge, nowise may they hurt,
Or cry aloud, or frighten out the tone
Which we will strive to wear, and as calm nature own.
Whatever scenes our eyes once gratified,
Those landscapes couched around our early homes,
To which our tender, peaceful hearts replied,
To those our present happy feeling roams;
And takes a mightier joy than from the tomes
Of the pure scholar; those ten thousand sights
Of constant nature flow in us, as foams
The bubbling spring; these are the true delights
Wherewith this solemn world the sorrowful requites.
Those landscapes couched around our early homes,
To which our tender, peaceful hearts replied,
To those our present happy feeling roams;
73
Of the pure scholar; those ten thousand sights
Of constant nature flow in us, as foams
The bubbling spring; these are the true delights
Wherewith this solemn world the sorrowful requites.
| Poems | |