TO AN EARLY FRIEND,

ON HER TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY.

"Long years,

Long though not very many, since have done

Their work on both :-some suffering and some tears

Have left us nearly where we had begun ;

Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run;

We have had our reward."

CHILDE HAROLD.-CANTO IV.

THEY are gone those years of the painless mind,

The happy and the free!

They are gone with the breath of the summer wind,—

With the foam of the summer sea!

Yet scarce may'st thou deem how much I owe

To childhood and to thee,

For many a dream severest woe

Can never wring from me.

They were dreams of childhood's azure glance,

Of soft hair's sunny ray;

But why should I speak of what long, perchance, Hath passed from thee away?

Oh, joy was then like the deathless blue

Hesperia's soft sky wears;

And hope was a rainbow, whose brilliant hue

Ne'er melted into tears.

Or if it did, from that light shower

So fresh each blossom grew,

'Twas hard to quarrel with a flower

All jewelled with such dew.

They are gone,-those young and delicate buds!
Or they live in remembrance only,
Which ofttimes over their beauty broods,

When the heart feels sad and lonely!

And summer is coming, a tint more warm

O'er earth and heaven to pour ;

But summer's the time of the thunder storm,—

The nurse of the passion flower.

Thou canst not trust to her joyous sky,

Or the smile of her sea's repose;

For that smile oft sparkles o'er misery,
Which none but the sufferer knows.

But enough of regret :-there is God above ;-
There is suffering man below;

And the soul hath a nobler task to prove

Than selfish bliss or woe.

She is taught from each gem that glows on high,

Or spangles the dewy sod,—

From each flower of the earth and each star of the sky,

To know and to worship God.

She is taught by the love His words reveal,

Which seraphs bend to scan,

Another's grief or joy to feel,-
To love and to pity man.

Bright hours! though the sunshine of mirth depart And the laughter of childhood cease,

If they bring to the governed and softened heart

The heavenly boon of peace.

Blest hours! though not all unknown to grief,

If grief hath taught the while

To give to the wounded heart relief,—
To the tear-worn cheek a smile.

Warm are the prayers that are raised for thee,
And warm are the hearts that raise them;

And calm shall thy heavenward journeying be,

As the smile with which God

repays them.

Should the cloud ever rise of passing ill,

(In the clearest sky we find it,)

The brightness that lingers around it still
Shall tell of the sun behind it.

A present God, through all thy way,
Shall hold his shield before thee,

Till every cloud be swept away,

And grace be complete in glory.

Feb. 25, 1829.

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