Oh, leave sighing! thought is vain
Of all the treasures past;
Hope and fear, delight and pain,
Are clay, and cannot last.
Farewell; and sing lullabie
To all the things that pass us by.
They go to sleep,
Though we may weep,
And never come again.--Nennie.
III.
Oh, leave looking--on the wave
That dances in the ray;