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childhood's pleasures.
'Mid the pure ether borne,
Hailing the light's return,
Off'ring to rosy morn
Carols of joy.
Hailing the light's return,
Off'ring to rosy morn
Carols of joy.
In a valley bloom'd many a gem,
Lovely and fair:
The woodbine, with lithesome stem:,
Coil'd itself there;
When joyous feet sought the bowers,
Tiny hands reach'd the flowers,
Bringing down dewy showers,
On their bright hair.
Lovely and fair:
The woodbine, with lithesome stem:,
Coil'd itself there;
When joyous feet sought the bowers,
Tiny hands reach'd the flowers,
Bringing down dewy showers,
On their bright hair.
A mother's eye fondly dwelt
On each glad brow,
As she sighed—"Once this bosom felt
All they feel now:"
A tear fell,—ah! could it be—
Could her babes' childish glee,
Bursting in purity,
Wake aught of woe?
On each glad brow,
As she sighed—"Once this bosom felt
All they feel now:"
A tear fell,—ah! could it be—
Could her babes' childish glee,
Bursting in purity,
Wake aught of woe?
Ah, no! it was mem'ry's eye
Turn'd to the time
When she view'd, with as wild a joy,
Meadows in prime;
When those of her mother's hearth
Join'd in her childish mirth—
Now all had passed from earth
To a bright clime.
Turn'd to the time
When she view'd, with as wild a joy,
Meadows in prime;
When those of her mother's hearth
Join'd in her childish mirth—
Now all had passed from earth
To a bright clime.
