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IRISH MELODIES. |
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And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle, or vale enchanting, "Where all looks flow'ry, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting ; We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heav'n had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!
As travelers oft look back, at eve,
When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing,— So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us. |
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IN THE MORNING OF LIFE. |
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In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,
And the light that surrounds us is all from within; Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy time
We can love, as in hours of less transport we may ; Of our smiles, of our hopes, 't is the gay sunny prime,
But affection is truest when these fade away. |
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