Ghildhood's Days. HE dearest scenes that swell the heart, We had no cares to oppress the mind, Those happy days of childhood. O! that word brings scenes so sweet! On memory's tablet each face appears, That formed the household wreath for years; That wreath is torn apart. The sweet, sweet years of a happy child, Or listening to the stories told, And the merry twilight hour had come;— Or we'd sit on our father's knee, And watch his thoughtful brow, With our childish hands in his soft, brown hair; Those locks are silvery now; Those locks, so fair, are gone. 214 CHILDHOOD'S DAYS. The damask rose, and wild-briar sweet, We see a change, a noted change, Our childhood days, so fair and bright, We'll look on them as one bright spot, Oh, those dear, those sacred scenes; We long to view those scenes once more Our cherished school-days-Oh! how sweet The name of childhood-Oh how sweet! All are stronger, nobler, wiser, But we feel that pleasures sweet Were showered around our childish feetAnd never will return again. Childhood's days-how quick they vanish; And we sigh for them in vain. They surround us, we behold them everywhere, As the childish laughter rings through the balmy air;— But they'll never come again. Gyclone EE! the sky is hid from view! The blackened clouds are gathering now! Shut the windows! close the doors! The farmer leaves his work and plow! It's hurry and bustle, here and there, For the frightful storm appears to say, The deep-voiced thunders peal afar, As if to rend the sky, And add to the gloom of the coming storm, Now watched by every eye. |