As radiant, innocent, and young.
Farewell! we cry, to Ninety-Two,
Its lapses and encompassings,
We bid them all a fond adieu,
And fix our gaze on fresher things;
What has not been we dream will be,
The wounds will heal, the flaws will mend,
And hopes be born of Ninety-Three
That older, cherished hopes transcend.
It is not thus; Time mocks at pause,