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To me these youthful lays recall
The dreams and thoughts of former years,
Till every scene that gave them birth
Returns with all its hopes and fears
I sec the shades of other days
Revive with every artless strain;
And, wrapped in Memory's dreams, retrace
The hours that ne'er can come again.
The dreams and thoughts of former years,
Till every scene that gave them birth
Returns with all its hopes and fears
I sec the shades of other days
Revive with every artless strain;
And, wrapped in Memory's dreams, retrace
The hours that ne'er can come again.
But never did their heart-warm strains
With faults so few appear to me,
As when thou badest me trace once more
These records of the past for thee.
That task is done! Then take this gift
From one to whom thou art so dear,—
And keep, still keep it, for the sake
Of her whose hand hath traced them here.
With faults so few appear to me,
As when thou badest me trace once more
These records of the past for thee.
That task is done! Then take this gift
From one to whom thou art so dear,—
And keep, still keep it, for the sake
Of her whose hand hath traced them here.
Another year of peace and love,
With noiseless steps hath reached its close,
And only found us still more blest
Than when its first pale beam arose:
Mercy hath still each blessing spared
That crowned with bliss our lot below;
And one sweet flower, which bloomed not then,
Sheds fragrance o'er our pathway now.
With noiseless steps hath reached its close,
And only found us still more blest
Than when its first pale beam arose:
Mercy hath still each blessing spared
That crowned with bliss our lot below;
And one sweet flower, which bloomed not then,
Sheds fragrance o'er our pathway now.
What blessing for the coming year,
Dearest, can I implore for thee?—
The best; that sent to us in love,
Pleasure and pain alike may be:
Dearest, can I implore for thee?—
The best; that sent to us in love,
Pleasure and pain alike may be:
