One whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure.
One whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure.
For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
Many are our joysIn youth, but oh what happiness to liveWhen every hour brings palpable accessOf knowledge, when all knowledge is delight,And sorrow is not there
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven.
A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories