 | Mournfull Recollections |  |
15
LINES
WRITTEN ON TWELFTH NIGHT, 1820.
It is the hour when hearts are gay;
When smiling Friends their hands unite,
And talk of pleasures past away,
Anticipating new delight;
And many mansions will display
The charms of dance and song to-night:
Happy and blest will many be,
Joy smiles on them,—but not on me.
When smiling Friends their hands unite,
And talk of pleasures past away,
Anticipating new delight;
And many mansions will display
The charms of dance and song to-night:
Happy and blest will many be,
Joy smiles on them,—but not on me.
It is the hour when Lovers meet,
When faggots blaze, and tales are told;
When all their yearly sports repeat,
The sports that charmed our sires of old:
And now age claims a cheerful seat,
Youth's harmless gambols to behold:
Now Old and Young from care are free,
Joy smiles on many—not on me.
When faggots blaze, and tales are told;
When all their yearly sports repeat,
The sports that charmed our sires of old:
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Youth's harmless gambols to behold:
Now Old and Young from care are free,
Joy smiles on many—not on me.
It is an hour by custom crowned
With mirth and music every year;
When jests and Christmas games goround,
Those games by Time made doubly dear:
Now Friendship's kindest accents sound,
And all we see and all we hear
Are sights and songs of mirth and glee;
Joy smiles on many—but not on me.
With mirth and music every year;
When jests and Christmas games goround,
Those games by Time made doubly dear:
Now Friendship's kindest accents sound,
And all we see and all we hear
Are sights and songs of mirth and glee;
Joy smiles on many—but not on me.
It is an hour when some may boast
The cheerful breast, the placid brow;
But aching hearts now suffer most,
And shrink from joys they used to know;
The valued Friend so lately lost,
By me is mourned more sadly now:
With sighs each happy form I see,
Joy smiles on others—not on me.
The cheerful breast, the placid brow;
But aching hearts now suffer most,
And shrink from joys they used to know;
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By me is mourned more sadly now:
With sighs each happy form I see,
Joy smiles on others—not on me.
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