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the stream of life.
With bounding heart we rapturous drink
From young joy's guileless spring,
Nor ever in that bright hour think
What sorrows yet shall ring
From young joy's guileless spring,
Nor ever in that bright hour think
What sorrows yet shall ring
The heart round which dance dreamy things,
Bright as the golden beam
The orb of day effulgent flings
Upon the silver stream.
On, onward by the current borne,
We reach the stream of youth;
We fancy, as in life's young morn,
All innocence and truth:
Bright as the golden beam
The orb of day effulgent flings
Upon the silver stream.
On, onward by the current borne,
We reach the stream of youth;
We fancy, as in life's young morn,
All innocence and truth:
We see the flowers we loved so much,
And try to catch the joy;
We, passing, grasp—but at our touch
The transient glories die.
Now fancy's rainbow tints pourtray
Our path, along the wave
All sunshine, and the colours gay,
Hide far the distant grave.
And try to catch the joy;
We, passing, grasp—but at our touch
The transient glories die.
Now fancy's rainbow tints pourtray
Our path, along the wave
All sunshine, and the colours gay,
Hide far the distant grave.
The stream is deeper, wider now,
And fitful gales arise;
Deep whirlpools grumble far below,
And darker seem the skies.
We're launch'd on manhood's watery Waste—-
We drink of manhood's cup—
'Tis gall and acid to the taste—
Ah! where's the honied drop?
And fitful gales arise;
Deep whirlpools grumble far below,
And darker seem the skies.
We're launch'd on manhood's watery Waste—-
We drink of manhood's cup—
'Tis gall and acid to the taste—
Ah! where's the honied drop?
