(I sigh,) "return a moment, days of youth,
Of childhood,—oh, return!" How vain the thought,
Vain as unmanly! yet the pensive Muse,
Unblam'd, may dally with imaginings;
For this wide view is like the scene of life,
Once travers'd o'er with carelessness and glee,
And we look back upon the vale of years,
And hear remembered voices, and behold,
In blended colours, images and shades
Long pass'd, now rising, as at Memory's call,