His step was light, and his looks as bright As the beams of the morning sun, And his boyish dreams, as the rippling streams That gently onward run, Without a shock from rugged rock...
Short is the time, my friend, since I First heard thy voice, first saw thy face, And yet, the days in gliding by, Have left within my mind a trace-- A friendly trace of thee and thine,...
The morning of a gladsome day in spring Had scarce its freshness brought to weary men, When, o'er the meadows wet, a boy did sing, And whistled o'er a tune, and carroll'd-it, again,...