The Inn of Dreams/"Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir"

by Olive Custance

For other versions of this work, see 'Quelque part une enfance très douce doit mourir' (Custance).

"Quelque part une Enfancetrès douce doit mourir"Albert Samian

 

Alas! I do not know on what sad dayMy childhood went away . . .It may have left me softly in the nightWhen I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell?Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!"I only know it never said "farewell" . . .

And so I cannot tell when youth will goAlthough I love it so . . .

But like a little amorous girl that clingsTo some fair boy, my spirit all afraid,While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings,Knows he must leave her for some other maid!