WHEN youthful transport led the hours, And all my way was bright with flowers, Ah! then my harp, thy dulcet note, To songs of joy would lightly float; To thee I sung in numbers wild, Of hope and love who gaily smiled. And now though young delight is o'er, And golden visions charm no more; Though now my harp, thy mellow tone, I wake to mournful strains alone; Ah! yet the pleasing lays impart A pensive rapture to my heart. I sung to thee of early pleasures, In sweet and animated measures; And I have wept o'er griefs and cares, And still have loved thy magic airs: To me thy sound recals the hours, When all my way was bright with flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLORS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH JOHNNY APPLESEED by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ASPECTS OF THE PINES by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE SONNET: 35 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ECLOGUE: FATHER COME HWOME by WILLIAM BARNES TO MARY; OCCASIONED BY HER HAVING ENGRAVED ON A SEAL 'FORGET ME NOT' by BERNARD BARTON |