When like to theirs, our floating locks, were left to woo the breeze,
Oh! Time, in all thy calendar, thou’st no such times as these.
I do forget how many years have sadly passed me by,
Since my young sun of rising morn, shone gayly in the sky;
When I behold these happy things in all their joyous play,
Pouring the sunshine of their hearts, upon my cloudy way.
Would I could watch their gentle growth, and guard them from the blight,
That ever tracks the steps of Time, like darken’d clouds of night,
Would I could see their laughing eyes still innocently wear
The looks of guileless purity, unmixed with woe, or care.