Is it a cloudless eve or starless night?
To those who’re busied in life’s brilliant dawn
With gathering flowers that bloom when spring is gone,
And, ere their morning sun begins to wane,
Add many a link to fond affection’s chain,
To Heaven’s supreme behest have meekly bowed—
’Twill prove indeed an eve without a cloud.
What though the brilliancy and sheen of day
With youthful hours have faded all away;
What though the fresh and roseate bloom of spring