 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
56
BOYHOOD
“Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?”
Childe Harold.
Boyhood's blest hours! when yet unfledg'd and callow,
We prove those joys we never can retain,
In riper years with fond regret we hallow,
Like some sweet scene we never see again.
We prove those joys we never can retain,
In riper years with fond regret we hallow,
Like some sweet scene we never see again.
For youth—whate'er may be its petty woes,
Its trivial sorrows—disappointments—fears,
As on in haste life's wintry current flows—
Still claims, and still receives, its debt of tears.
Its trivial sorrows—disappointments—fears,
As on in haste life's wintry current flows—
Still claims, and still receives, its debt of tears.
Yes! when, in grim alliance, grief and time
Silver our heads and rob our hearts of ease,
We gaze along the deeps of care and crime,
To the far, fading shore of youth and peace;
Silver our heads and rob our hearts of ease,
We gaze along the deeps of care and crime,
To the far, fading shore of youth and peace;
57
Each object that we meet the more endears
That rosy morn before a troubled day;
That blooming dawn—that sun-rise of our years—
That sweet voluptuous vision past away!
That rosy morn before a troubled day;
That blooming dawn—that sun-rise of our years—
That sweet voluptuous vision past away!
For by the welcome, tho' embittering power
Of wakeful memory, we too well behold
That lightsome—careless—unreturning hour,
Beyond the reach of wishes or of gold.
Of wakeful memory, we too well behold
That lightsome—careless—unreturning hour,
Beyond the reach of wishes or of gold.
And ye, whom blighted hopes or passion's heat
Have taught the pangs that care-worn hearts endure,
Ye will not deem the vernal rose so sweet!
Ye will not call the driven snow so pure!
Have taught the pangs that care-worn hearts endure,
Ye will not deem the vernal rose so sweet!
Ye will not call the driven snow so pure!
C. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |