Laura Sophia Temple (Лаура София Темпл)

Song III (Days of my youth, ye are gliding away!)

Days of my youth, ye are gliding away!
Days of my youth ye will shortly be vanish'd;
Soon will the warm tints of Fancy decay,
Soon from my cheek will the roses be banish'd.

Brief as the wild-flow'r that lives on the spray,
Brief as the bright dew that hangs on the morning;
Youth gives its blossoms to Life's barren way,
All the drear waste for an instant adorning.

Soon will the hopes of my bosom be hush'd,
Soon will the hours of my day-dreams be number'd,
Quickly the shoots of Romance will be crush'd,
All will be fled that I've wish'd or I've slumber'd.

Go then ye warm-beaming joys of a day,
Go then ye moments of bliss and of sorrow;
Calm will I bend me to Time's pale decay,
And from Contentment new roses will borrow.

1. Sonnet 1. To the Evening Gale
2. The Murderer
3. The Exile
4. To the Genius of Romance
5. Morning Walk

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