Love's Young Dream
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty brightMy heart's chain wove;When my dream of life, from morn till night,Was love, still love.New hope may bloom,And days may come,Of milder calmer beam,But there's nothing half so sweet in lifeAs love's young dream:No, there's nothing half so sweet in lifeAs love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar,When wild youth's past;Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,To smile at last;He'll never meetA joy so sweet,In all his noon of fame,As when first he sung to woman's earHis soul-felt flame,And, at every close, she blush'd to hearThe one loved name.
No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgotWhich first love traced;Still it lingering haunts the greenest spotOn memory's waste.'Twas odour fledAs soon as shed;'Twas morning's winged dream;'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine againOn life's dull stream:Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine againOn life's dull stream.
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