There is no idle jest to disturb the heart’s rest,
And its banners wear mottoes of truth;
Look back at the glad, happy faces
That walk with our childhood abreast,
And show me to-day, though it be miles away,
A spot that can offer such rest.
Say not that the years long escaping,
Show graves of a cankering joy.
Because we have found that new pleasures abound,
Must we cast off our first childish toy?