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But shall we love when falling leaves
The autumn of our lives disclose?
When Time his silver frost-work weaves,
O'er tress of gold, and cheek of rose?
When eyes grow dim, and sadly say,
How all things fair must pass away?
The autumn of our lives disclose?
When Time his silver frost-work weaves,
O'er tress of gold, and cheek of rose?
When eyes grow dim, and sadly say,
How all things fair must pass away?
Shall we love on through wintry hours,
Our pleasant journey nearly done?
When failing limbs, and weakened powers,
Proclaim how near our set of sun?
When youth's gay visions all are o'er,
And come to light our steps no more?
Our pleasant journey nearly done?
When failing limbs, and weakened powers,
Proclaim how near our set of sun?
When youth's gay visions all are o'er,
And come to light our steps no more?
Oh! doubt it not—Time cannot chill
The passion of our youthful hearts,—
A holy flame, 'twill brighten still,
Its living radiance ne'er departs;
I feel, I know, its power must last
'Till even life itself be past.
The passion of our youthful hearts,—
A holy flame, 'twill brighten still,
Its living radiance ne'er departs;
I feel, I know, its power must last
'Till even life itself be past.
