Come while the blossoms of thy years are brightest,
Thou youthful wanderer in a flowery maze;
Come, while the restless heart is bounding lightest,
And joy's pure sunbeams tremble in thy ways:
Come, while sweet thoughts, like summer buds unfolding,
Waken rich feelings in the careless breast;
While yet thy hand the ephemeral wreath is holding —
Come, and secure interminable rest.

Soon will the freshness of thy days be over,
And thy free buoyancy of soul be flown;
Pleasure will fold her wing, and friend and lover
Will to the embraces of the worm have gone:
Those who now love thee will have pass'd forever —
Their looks of kindness will be lost to thee:
Thou wilt need balm to heal thy spirit's fever,
As thy sick heart broods over years to be.

Come while the morning of thy life is glowing, —
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die;
Ere the gay spell which earth is round thee throwing,
Fade like the sunset of a summer sky;
Life hath but shadows, save a promise given,
Which lights the future with a fadeless ray:
Oh, touch the sceptre — win a hope in heaven —
Come — turn thy spirit from the world away.

Then will the crosses of this brief existence,
Seem airy nothings to thine ardent soul:
And shining brightly in the forward distance,
Will of thy patient race appear the goal:
Home of the weary! where in peace reposing,
The spirit lingers in unclouded bliss,
Though o'er its dust the curtained grave is closing —
Who would not early choose a lot like this?