Sweet recollections of his journey past,
A journey crowned with blessings to the last.
Mrs. St. Leon Loud.
Why should old age escape unnoticed here,
That sacred era to reflection dear;
That peaceful shore where passion dies away,
Like the last wave that ripples o’er the bay;
O, if old age were cancelled from our lot,
Full soon would man deplore the unhallowed blot;
Life’s busy day would want its tranquil even,