Our first gay stage of life is when
Youth in its dawn salutes the eye--
Season of bliss! Oh, who wouldn't then
Wish to cry, "Stop!" to earth and sky?
But, round, round, both boy and girl
Are whisked thro' that sky of blue;
And much would their hearts enjoy the whirl,
If--their heads didn't whirl round too.
Next, we enjoy our glorious noon,
Thinking all life a life of light;
But shadows come on, 'tis evening soon,
And ere we can say, "How short!"--'tis night.
Round, round, still all goes round,
Even while I'm thus singing to you;
And the best way to make it a _merry_-go-round,
Is to--chorus my song round too.
OH, DO NOT LOOK SO BRIGHT AND BLEST.
Oh, do not look so bright and blest,
For still there comes a fear,
When brow like thine looks happiest,
That grief is then most near.
There lurks a dread in all delight,
A shadow near each ray,
That warns us then to fear their flight,
When most we wish their stay.
Then look not thou so bright and blest,
For ah! there comes a fear,
When brow like thine looks happiest,
That grief is then most near.
Why is it thus that fairest things
The soonest fleet and die?--
That when most light is on their wings,
They're then but spread to fly!
And, sadder still, the pain will stay--
The bliss no more appears;
As rainbows take their light away,
And leave us but the tears!
Then look not thou so bright and blest,
For ah! there comes a fear,
When brow like thine looks happiest,
That grief is then most near.
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