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WEET age of blest delusion! blooming boys, Ah! revel long in childhood's thoughtless joys, With light and pliant spirits that can stoop To follow, sportively, the rolling hoop; To watch the sleeping top with gay delight, Or mark, with raptured gaze, the sailing kite; Or, eagerly pursuing Pleasure's call, Can find it center'd in the bounding ball! Alas! the day will come, when sports like these Must lose their magic, and their power to please; Too swiftly fled, the rosy hours of youth Shall yield their fairy-charms to mournful Truth;