“Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir”

Albert Samian

Alas! I do not know on what sad day My childhood went away . . . It may have left me softly in the night When 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 go Although I love it so . . . But like a little amorous girl that clings To 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!