When half a woman, half a child,

Thy very artlessness beguiled,

And folly’s self seem’d wise in thee.

I too can smile, when o’er that hour

The lights of memory backward stream,

Yet feel the while that manhood’s power

Is vainer than my boyhood’s dream.

Years have pass’d on, and left their trace

Of graver care and deeper thought;

And unto me the calm, cold face