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MY PLAYMATES.
Yes! there it lingers, still the same,
Unchanged by care, untouched by pain,
Linked with each old, familiar name,
In recollection's chain!
And ere that love is dimmed with rust,
Its throne will crumble into dust.
Unchanged by care, untouched by pain,
Linked with each old, familiar name,
In recollection's chain!
And ere that love is dimmed with rust,
Its throne will crumble into dust.
Though thought will sometimes wander here,
To tell us what they are,
Remembrance whispers in our ear
But to remind us that they were
The loved companions of our youth,
Whose joys were joys that we could share.
Whose hearts were guileless as the truth
So deeply seated there;
Ah! though our feet may onward roam,
Our hearts are with our childhood's home.
To tell us what they are,
Remembrance whispers in our ear
But to remind us that they were
The loved companions of our youth,
Whose joys were joys that we could share.
Whose hearts were guileless as the truth
So deeply seated there;
Ah! though our feet may onward roam,
Our hearts are with our childhood's home.
They linger still beneath the skies
That first upon them shone,
Where yet our best affections rise
Like incense from its altar-stone;
Making sweet music through the woods,
Though not a sound may echo there,
And filling the deep solitudes
With some familiar air,
That oft would rise, and echo long
Through the dark woods—that sweet, old song!
That first upon them shone,
Where yet our best affections rise
Like incense from its altar-stone;
Making sweet music through the woods,
Though not a sound may echo there,
And filling the deep solitudes
With some familiar air,
That oft would rise, and echo long
Through the dark woods—that sweet, old song!
