LIFE’S YOUNG DREAM.

Those envious threads, what do they here, Amid thy flowing hair? It should be many a summer’s day Ere they were planted there: Yet many a day ere thou and Care Had known each other’s form, Or thou hadst bent thy youthful head To Sorrow’s whelming storm. Oh! was it grief that blanched the locks Thus early on thy brow? And does the memory cloud thy heart, And dim thy spirit now? Or are the words upon thy lip An echo from thy heart; And is that gay as are the smiles With which thy full lips part? For thou hast lived man’s life of thought, While careless youth was thine; Thy boyish lip has passed the jest And sipped the sparkling wine, And mingled in the heartless throng As thoughtlessly as they, Ere yet the days of early youth Had glided swift away. They say that Nature wooeth back No wanderer to her arms; Welcomes no prodigal’s return Who once hath scorned her charms. And ah! I fear for thee and me, The feelings of our youth Have vanished with the things that were, Amid the wrecks of truth. Oh! for the early happy days When hope at least was new! Ere we had dreamed a thousand dreams, And found them all untrue; Ere we had flung our life away On what might not be ours; Found bitter drops in every cup, And thorns on all the flowers. Ye who have yet youth’s sunny dreams, Oh guard the treasure well, That no rude voice from coming years May break the enchanted spell! No cloud of doubt come o’er your sky To dim its sunny ray, Be careless children, while ye can, Trust on, while yet ye may.