In smiles and tears the restless mind
Is ever seeking—ne’er to find—
A resting place—but hurrying ever
Onward, onward, stopping never.
Youth’s hopes, oh! what are they,
But clouds of changing hue;
Sometimes they’re tinged with golden light,
Beaming with softening beauty bright;
Like clouds they fade, they pass, they die,
And leave no trace upon the sky;