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THE dearest scenes that swell the heart,
Those days are passed and gone.
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 wreath is torn apart.
The sweet, sweet years of a happy child,
Those hours are past and gone.
Or listening to the stories told,
That hour will come no more.
Or we'd sit on our father's knee,
Those locks, so fair, are gone.
The damask rose, and wild-briar sweet,
Oh! those apple trees!
We see a change, a noted change,
Those days when we were young.
Our childhood days, so fair and bright,
Where care and sorrow cometh not.
Oh, those dear, those sacred scenes;
Those scenes we'll view no more.
Our cherished school-days-Oh! how sweet
Lo! now they sweetly rest.
Unto the days of childhood.
And never will return again.
Childhood's days—how quick they vanish;
where, As the childish laughter rings through the
EE! the sky is hid from view!
The farmer leaves his work and plow!
It's hurry and bustle, here and there,
To care for all about;
“My path I have marked out!"
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.