Oh! weep not that the beamless eye No dumb delight can speak; And fresh and fair no longer lie Joy-tints upon the cheek. No! weep not that the ruin-trace Of wasting time is seen, Around the form and in the face, Where beauty's bloom has been : But mourn the INWARD wreck we feel As hoary years depart, And Time's effacing fingers steal Young feelings from the heart! Those joyous thoughts that rise and spring From out the buoyant mind, Like summer bees upon the wing, Or echoes on the wind. The hopes that sparkle every hour, Like blossoms from a soul Where Sorrow sheds no blighting power, And Care has no controul, With all the rich enchantment thrown On Life's fair scene around, As if the world within a zone Of happiness were bound! |