No, friend Ross! thou art not old;
A heart so true, so kind, so bold,
As in thy bosom throbs to-day,
Never! never! will decay.
Some I know, but half thy years,
Are quite deaf to all that cheers;
They are dumb when they should speak,
And blind to all the poor and weak.
There are none I know, in sooth,
Who part so slowly with their youth,