Alas! I do not know on what sad day
My childhood went away . . .
It may have left me softly in the night
When I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell?
Perhaps it whispered “wings were made for flight!”
I only know it never said “farewell” . . .
And so I cannot tell when youth will go
Although I love it so . . .
But like a little amorous girl that clings
To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid,
While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings,
Knows he must leave her for some other maid!