Classic Poem

W HERE'ER we may wander, whate'er be our lot,
The heart's deep affections still cling to the spot
Where first a fond mother with rapture has prest,
Or sung us to slumber in peace on her breast;

Where Love first allured us, and fondly we hung
On the magical music which fell from her tongue.
Tho' wise ones may tell us 'twas foolish and vain,
Yet when shall we drink of such glory again?

Where Hope first beguiled us, and spells o'er us cast,
And told us her visions of beauty would last,
That earth was an Eden untainted with guile,
And men were not destined to sorrow and toil;

Where Friendship first found us, and gave us her hand,
And link'd us for aye to that beautiful land,—
Oh! still shall this heart be, and cold as the clay,
Ere one of their features shall from it decay.

O Fortune, thy favors are empty and vain!
Restore me the friends of my boyhood again—
The hearts that are scattered or cold in the tomb,
Oh, give me again in their beauty and bloom!

Away with Ambition! it brought me but pain;
Oh, give me the big heart of boyhood again!
The faith and the friendship, the rapture of yore,
Oh, shall they re-visit this bosom no more?