And those who still are near my home,
And whom I often see,
Have come to manhood's grave estate;
They're boys no more to me.
And tho' we meet in converse yet,
And each one's thoughts enjoy,
Our thoughts and words are not so free,
As when, each was a boy.
For the spring of life is gone for us,
With all its bursting bloom,
And manhood's thoughts, and joys, and cares,
Are now within its room.
But the mem'ry of our bright school days,
Will last through ev'ry strain,
And time will brighten ev'ry joy,
And darken ev'ry pain.
The rippling of our childhood's laugh,
Will roll adown the years,
And time will blunt, each day we live,
The mem'ry of our tears.
Our boyhood's hopes, and boyhood's dreams,
And aspirations high,
Will doubtless never be fulfill'd,
Until the day we die.
But still we'll cherish in our hearts,
And live those days again,
When awkardly we read our books,
Or trembling held the pen.
* * * * *
SUNRISE.
How few there are who know the pure delight,
The chaste influence, and the solace sweet,
Of walking forth to see the glorious sight,
When nature rises, with respect, to greet
The lord of day on his majestic seat,
Like some great personage of high degree,
Who cometh forth his subjects all to meet,
Like him, but yet more glorious far than he,
He comes with splendor bright, to shed o'er land and
sea.