BETA

Childhood.

Spring-tide of life and May-morn of the mind,1
Sweet season, when each tear-drop that we shed,2
Is but as dew in some young rose enshrined,3
The soul’s bright sun beams forth, and lo, ’ tis fled!4
No darkling tempest gathers o’er our head,5
No wintry torrent at our feet we find,6
But wreaths of Nature’s gayest flowers entwined,7
And one clear summer sky around us spread.8
Oh, beauteous season! beauteous as thou’rt brief,9
Oh for one day of childhood’s careless joys!10
Then would I smile, e’en yet amidst my grief,11
Quit each dull toil that riper life employs,12
Mid youth’s delightful haunts go seek relief,13
And laugh at Fame with all her empty noise.14