So glad a life was never, love
So glad a life was never, love,
— As that which childhood leads,
Before it learns to sever, love,
— The roses from the weeds;
When to be very duteous, love,
— Is all it has to do;
And every flower is beauteous, love,
— And every folly true.
And you can still remember, love,
— The buds that decked our play,
Though Destiny's December, love,
— Has whirled those buds away:
And you can smile through tears, love,
— And feel a joy in pain,
To think upon those years, love,
— You may not see again.
— As that which childhood leads,
Before it learns to sever, love,
— The roses from the weeds;
When to be very duteous, love,
— Is all it has to do;
And every flower is beauteous, love,
— And every folly true.
And you can still remember, love,
— The buds that decked our play,
Though Destiny's December, love,
— Has whirled those buds away:
And you can smile through tears, love,
— And feel a joy in pain,
To think upon those years, love,
— You may not see again.