Poems.
45
But time has thrown a shadow
O'er all those happy hours,
And we have each discovered,
Thorns, e'er will mix with flowers.
O'er all those happy hours,
And we have each discovered,
Thorns, e'er will mix with flowers.
Now, take them back, oh, take them,
And when they 've left my sight,
Then, then may I recover,
My spirit's buoyant light.
And when they 've left my sight,
Then, then may I recover,
My spirit's buoyant light.
And though I now resign them,
I will not mourn the past,
While memory's beams shall gladden
Those hours, too sweet to last.
I will not mourn the past,
While memory's beams shall gladden
Those hours, too sweet to last.
SCEPTICISM.
Oh, ye who doubt there is a God,
Come forth with me and view
The springing grass, the budding plant,
The morning's sparkling dew.
List to the soft wind's gentle breath,
Inhale the fragrant breeze,
With mellowed richness, sweet perfume
Borne from the flow'ring trees.
Come forth with me and view
The springing grass, the budding plant,
The morning's sparkling dew.
List to the soft wind's gentle breath,
Inhale the fragrant breeze,
With mellowed richness, sweet perfume
Borne from the flow'ring trees.
