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THE flower that smiles to-day
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world's delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright.
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
But we, though soon they fall,
Which ours we call.
Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou-and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,—
In thy place-ah! well-a-day!
IF I walk in Autumn's even
WILT thou forget the happy hours
Forget the dead, the past?
There are ghosts that may take revenge for it,
Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom,
TIME LONG PAST.
LIKE the ghost of a dear friend dead
A tone which is now forever fled,
Was time long past.
There were sweet dreams in the night
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last—
That time long past.
There is regret, almost remorse,
'Tis like a child's beloved corse
Beauty is like remembrance cast
THAT time is dead for ever, child,
And stare aghast
At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast,
The stream we gazed on then, rolled by; Its waves are unreturning ;
But we yet stand
In a lone land,
Like tombs to mark the memory
Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee
Songs of Love.
THE fountains mingle with the river,
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea: