How fair is childhood; like the ray
Of summer morn, the blush of day.
Bright scions of a noble race,
Blooming in love and youthful grace,
In innocence and beauty's pride!
As rosebuds blossoming at ease,
Showering their beauties on the breeze,
On some green mountain's side.
High thoughts are with that lovely boy,
In whose dark eye beams radiant joy;