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40 |
IRISH MELODIES. |
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But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Tho' the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past; Tho' he win the wise, who frown'd before, To smile at last; He'll never meet A joy so sweet, In all his noon of fame, As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame, And, at every close, she blush'd to hear The one lov'd name.
No, — that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
"Which first love trac'd; Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot On memory's waste. 'Twas odour fled As soon as shed ; 'Twas morning's winged dream ; 'Twas a light, that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream: Oh ! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream. |
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