Something beautiful is vanished, On the earth, and in the air, 'But it never comes again. Richard Henry Stoddard [1825-1903] "DAYS OF MY YOUTH” DAYS of my youth, Ye have glided away; Hairs of my youth, Ye are frosted and gray; Eyes of my youth, Your keen sight is no more; Cheeks of my youth, Ye are furrowed all o'er; Strength of my youth, All your vigor is gone; Thoughts of my youth, Your gay visions are flown. Days of my youth, I wish not your recall; Hairs of my youth, I'm content ye should fall; Eyes of my youth, You much evil have seen; Cheeks of my youth, Bathed in tears have you been; Thoughts of my youth, You have led me astray; Strength of my youth, Why lament your decay? Days of my age, Ye will shortly be past; Pains of my age, Yet awhile ye can last; Ave Atque Vale Joys of my age, In true wisdom delight; Eyes of my age, Be religion your light; Dread ye not the cold sod; Hopes of my age, Be ye fixed on your God. 353 St. George Tucker [1752-1828] AVE ATQUE VALE FAREWELL, my Youth! for now we needs must part, Here hand from hand must sever, heart from heart,— You'll wear no withered roses for my sake, Gray Eld must travel in my company Till I shall tread the footpath way no more. But when a blackbird pipes among the boughs, • On some dim, iridescent day in spring, Then I may dream you are remembering Or when some joy foregone, some fate forsworn, I may forget Our long, long parting for a little while, Dream of the golden splendors of your smile, Rosamund Marriott Watson [1863-1911] TO YOUTH WHERE art thou gone, light-ankled Youth? With wing at either shoulder, Then somewhat seemed to whisper near I doubted it; I felt no fear, If aught befell it, Love was by I may not call thee back; but thou Of gentle Sleep waves o'er my brow Then smiling eyes bend over mine, Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN FLORENCE AND PISA OH, talk not to me of a name great in story; What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? Stanzas for Music Oh FAME!-if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 355 There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; George Gordon Byron [1788-1824] STANZAS FOR MUSIC THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull de cay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess: The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again. Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a vanished scene; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me. George Gordon Byron [1788-1824] "WHEN AS A LAD" WHEN, as a lad, at break of day I watched the fishers sail away, My thoughts, like flocking birds, would follow And on and on Into the very heart of dawn! For long I searched the world! Ah me! So lovely and so far away! I seek them still and always will And I am free to follow, follow, For any save the soul's swift feet! 'AROUND THE CHILD" AROUND the child bend all the three Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] |