The youthful joys of vanish'd years,
The joys e'en now we share,
Have something of a sacred bliss,
Which time can not impair.
For when the years of youth have gone,
Its joys and hopes have flown,
The mem'ry clings with fond embrace--
Those joys are still our own.
Then, as I write these words for you,--
This earnest wish I pen:
That you may think but pleasant thoughts--
When life's liv'd o'er again.
May nought of sorrow, or of woe,
Invade to wound or pain,
And may the joys that we have shar'd
Be bright in mem'ry's train.