Poems.
113
Oh! no I've not forgot
Those fond hours of gladness;
Memory can know no blot,
Though tinged with sadness.
Those fond hours of gladness;
Memory can know no blot,
Though tinged with sadness.
AGE.
I saw an old man bowed with age.
His hair was silvery white,
And cares of long forgotten years,
Had dimmed his spirit's light.
His hair was silvery white,
And cares of long forgotten years,
Had dimmed his spirit's light.
And Time had fixed his record there
Upon his lofty brow,
Telling of days forever fled,
Of life more fresh than now.
Upon his lofty brow,
Telling of days forever fled,
Of life more fresh than now.
His pallid face and trembling step,
His rayless, sunken eye,
And weak, attenuated frame,
Speaks of a time to die.
His rayless, sunken eye,
And weak, attenuated frame,
Speaks of a time to die.
Though long his lease of life hath been,
'T is drawing to a close;
Life's taper burns but faintly now,
A pale effulgence throws.
'T is drawing to a close;
Life's taper burns but faintly now,
A pale effulgence throws.
