66
poems.
CHILDHOOD DAYS.
Childhood days, how quick they vanish!
How soon their simple joys are fled!
And the friends which then we roamed with
All are numbered with the dead.
How soon their simple joys are fled!
And the friends which then we roamed with
All are numbered with the dead.
How we rambled in the orchard,
Plucking fruit, so red and fair;
Roaming in the starry meadows,
Weaving chaplets for our hair;
Plucking fruit, so red and fair;
Roaming in the starry meadows,
Weaving chaplets for our hair;
Playing bo-peep 'mong the roses;
Tossing daisies to and fro;
Bending down the willow branches!
Childhood days! I love them so!
Tossing daisies to and fro;
Bending down the willow branches!
Childhood days! I love them so!
But, alas! they all have vanished;
Like old friends, they all have fled;
And my happy childhood visions,
They are numbered with the dead!
Like old friends, they all have fled;
And my happy childhood visions,
They are numbered with the dead!
