The Literary Echo, And Pawcatuck Advertiser

MISCELLANEOUS.

A Group of Children.

Laugh on, while yet the rosy blush
Of childhood's morning tints your skies,
Laugh on, while yet the kindling blush
Is on your cheeks and in your eyes.
I would not tell to make you grieve,
How soon that mirth shall pass away,
That morning fade and only leave
The broad, dull light of common day.
It makes my very spirit glad
To see your mirth and careless joys;
And may you never be more sad
Than you are now, my bright-eyed boys!
But I can read on every face,
A something upon every brow,
Which will not pass without a trace
Of things you are not dreaming now.
First, passions wild and dark and strong,
And hopes and powers and feelings high;
Then manhood's thoughts, a rushing throng.
Shall want the cheek and dim the eye,
And brows shall grow all pale with care,
And lips shall writhe with scorn or pain,
And age come on with hoary hair,
And sadly tend to earth again.
And cherished fancies, one by one,
Shall slowly fade from day to day ;
And then, from weary sun to sun,
Ye will not have the heart to play
But oft amidst the shifting scene
You'll smile on childhood's thoughtless joy,
And wish you had forever been
A careless, laughing, happy boy.