I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
I
I remember—I remember
How my childhood fleeted by,—
The mirth of its December,
And the warmth of its July;
On my brow, love, on my brow, love,
There are no signs of care;
But my pleasures are not now, love,
What Childhood's pleasures were.
II
Then the bowers—then the bowers
Were blithe as blithe could be;
And all their radiant flowers
Were coronals for me:
Gems to-night, love—gems to-night, love,
Are gleaming in my hair;
But they are not half so bright, love,
As Childhood's roses were.
III
I was singing—I was singing,
And my songs were idle words;
But from my heart was springing
Wild music like a bird's:
Now I sing, love—now I sing, love,
A fine Italian air;
But it's not so glad a thing, love,
As Childhood's ballads were!
IV
I was merry—I was merry
When my little lovers came,
With a lily, or a cherry,
Or a new invented game;
Now I've you, love—now I've you, love,
To kneel before me there:
But you know you're not so true, love,
As Childhood's lovers were!
June, 1833.
