81
STANZAS.
H! can it be, that every heartMust feel the deadening power of tine,
And watch each tender hue depart,
Which blushed upon life's hour of prime?
Must feelings, warm and glowing now,
Grow cold beneath the chill of years,
And calmly gaze upon the woe
Once felt and wept with kindred tears?
Oh! say not all at last must feel
Love, hope, and confidence decay,
And every year that passes, steal
Some bond of sympathy away;
Till all that kindly glow of heart,
Which makes another's hopes our own,
And weeps to see their joys depart—
Life's sweetest charity—is gone,
Love, hope, and confidence decay,
And every year that passes, steal
Some bond of sympathy away;
Till all that kindly glow of heart,
Which makes another's hopes our own,
And weeps to see their joys depart—
Life's sweetest charity—is gone,
No, no!—the glow of youth may fade,
Its once bright visions melt in tears,
And cold realities may shade
The fairy dreams of early years;
Its once bright visions melt in tears,
And cold realities may shade
The fairy dreams of early years;
