Yea, swift as the sunshine, and fleeting
As birds, fly the moments of glee!
And we smile, and mayhap grief is sleeting
Its ice upon you and on me.
And the clouds of the tempest are shifting
O'er the heart, tho' the face may be bright;
And the snows of woe's winter are drifting
Our souls; and each day hides a night.
For ah! when our souls are enjoying
The mirth which our faces reveal,
There is something — a something — alloying
The sweetness of joy that we feel.
Life's loveliest sky hides the thunder
Whose bolt in a moment may fall;
And our path may be flowery, but under
The flowers there are thorns for us all.
Ah! 'tis hard when our beautiful dreamings
That flash down the valley of night,
Wave their wing when the gloom hides their gleaming,
And leave us, like eagles in flight;
And fly far away unreturning,
And leave us in terror and tears,
While vain is the spirit's wild yearning
That they may come back in the years.
Come back! did I say it? but never
Do eagles come back to the cage:
They have gone — they have gone — and forever —
Does youth come back ever to age?
No! a joy that has left us in sorrow
Smiles never again on our way,
But we meet in the farthest to-morrow
The face of the grief of to-day.
The brightness whose tremulous glimmer
Has faded we cannot recall;
And the light that grows dimmer and dimmer —
When gone — 'tis forever and all.
Not a ray of it anywhere lingers,
Not a gleam of it gilds the vast gloom;
Youth's roses perfume not the fingers
Of age groping nigh to the tomb.