418
Ye Vernal Hours!
Ye vernal hours, glad days that once have been!
When life was young, and hopes were budding seen!
When hearts were blythe, and eyes were glistening bright,
And each new morn awoke to new delight;
Ye happy days that softly passed away
In boyish frolic and fantastic play!
Why have ye fled? why left no more behind,
Ye sunbright relics of my earlier years,
Than that faint music which, the viewless wind
At midnight, to the lonely wanderer bears
From sighing woods, to melt him into tears?
The bridled stream by art may backwards flow,
Youth's fires, once spent, again shall never glow;
The flower-stalk broke, each blossom must decay,
And youth, once past, for aye hath past away!
