Volume 51 — A SONG.
Reading edition
Blue eyes that laugh at early morn May weep ere close of day; And weeping is a thing of scorn To those whose hearts are gay. Ah, simple souls, beware, beware! Time's finger changeth smile to care! Gold locks that glitter as the sun May sudden fade to grey; And who shall favour anyone Despoiled of bright array? Ah, simple souls, beware of loss, Time's finger changeth gold to dross! Good lack! we talk, yet all the same We throw our words away! The smiles, the gold, the tears, the shame, Each tries them in his day. And Time, with vengeful finger, makes Of fondest goods our chief mistakes!
G.B. Stuart.