Methinks that on this joyous natal morn,
Backward, dear girl, thy gentle thought hath strayed,
And 'mid the golden blushes of the dawn
Of early childhood, thou again hast played.
Ah! beautiful in the dim past appears
That early twilight when all things were fair;
When blithe birds caroled to the morning air,
And thou as yet didst feel no boding fears:
Sweet memories! As they rise thine eye doth wear
A tender look, half sorrow and half joy!
For childhood's dreams are vanished, and now care,
And sober thoughts, and noble aims employ
Thy earnest woman's soul; the future calls;
On! On! God give thee strength till evening falls!