Page:Poems Cook.djvu/34

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OH! DEAR TO MEMORY ARE THOSE HOURS
Oh! dear to memory are those hours
When every pathway led to flowers;
When sticks of peppermint possess'd
A sceptre's power o'er the breast,
And heaven was round us while we fed
On rich ambrosial gingerbread.
I bless the days of Infancy,
When stealing from my mother's eye,
Elysian happiness was found
On that celestial field the ground;
When we were busied, hands and hearts,
In those important things, dirt tarts.
Don't smile; for sapient, full-grown man
Oft cogitates some mighty plan;
And, spell-bound by the bubble dream,
He labours till he proves the scheme
About as useful and as wise
As manufacturing dirt pies.
There's many a change on Folly's bells
Quite equals mud and oyster-shells.

Then shone the meteor rays of Youth;
Eclipsing quite the lamp of Truth;
And precious those bright sunbeams were,
That dried all tears, dispersed all care;
That shed a stream of golden joy,
Without one atom of alloy:
Oh! ne'er in mercy strive to chase
Such dazzling phantoms from their place;
However trifling, mean, or wild,
This deeds may seem of youth or child;

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