All day I've toiled, but not with pain,
In learning's golden wine;
And now at eventide again
The moonbeams softly shine.
There is no snow upon the ground,
No frost on wind or wave;
The south wind blew with gentlest sound
And broke their icy grave.
'Tis sweet to wander here at night,
To watch the winter die,
With heart as summer sunshine light
And warm as summer sky.
O may I never lose the peace
That lulls me gently now,
Though time should change my youthful face,
And years should shade my brow!
True to myself, and true to all,
May I be healthful still,
And turn away from passion's call,
And curb my own wild will.