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How lightly then it flashed along:—

Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,

On winding lakes and rivers wide,

That ask no aid of sail or oar,

That fear no spite of wind or tide!

Nought cared this body for wind or weather

When Youth and I lived in’t together.

Flowers are lovely: Love is flower-like;

Friendship is a sheltering tree;

O! the joys, that came down shower-like,

Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,

Ere I was old!

Ere I was old? Ah, woful Ere,

Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here!

O Youth! for years so many and sweet

’Tis known that Thou and I were one,

I’ll think it but a fond conceit—

It cannot be, that thou art gone!

Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll’d:—

And thou wert aye a masker bold!

What strange disguise hast now put on

To make believe that Thou art gone?

I see these locks in silvery slips,

This drooping gait, this alter’d size:

But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips,

And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!

Life is but Thought: so think I will