Ye pleasant days, companions to young joy,
E’er self and sorrow had born agony;
When grief, wreathed in romance, looked slily coy,
And wedded bliss, nor thought it felony;
My only sorrow, we for hours might part;
My often solace, we for years must meet;
Sweet expectation filled up yearning’s smart;
While memory thought not stale the oft-tasted treat:
I’ve learned those brooks were sparkling all with sunshine,
Though they seem’d stern, dividing life from life;
Could I these mazes thread so swift, and untwine,
How keen an edge were given to Time’s dull knife.
Joy steals from abhorred evil his enhancement,
His proud foot spurns the neck, that aids advancement.