Early Grey Hairs
O' ER my head, e'en yet a boy,
Care has thrown an early snow —
Care, be gone! — a steady joy
Soothes the heart that beats below.
Thus, though Alpine tops retain
Endless winter's hoary wreath;
Vines, and fields of golden grain,
Cheer the happy sons beneath.
Care has thrown an early snow —
Care, be gone! — a steady joy
Soothes the heart that beats below.
Thus, though Alpine tops retain
Endless winter's hoary wreath;
Vines, and fields of golden grain,
Cheer the happy sons beneath.
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