Page:Home; or, The unlost paradise (IA homeorunlostpara00palm).pdf/75

 Is kept with memory's holiest trusts enshrined. Sometimes, perchance, when on the vacant chair, Some childish plaything needed now no more, Or garment laid aside, the eye may rest, A sudden tear, a shaded brow, may tell How in the constant heart still lives the lost. Yet steadily again life's current glides Along the wonted channels, where the banks Wave, as of old, with woods and summer flowers, And bees hum softly and the west wind plays, And earth and skies once more are robed in light.

Childhood! thy bliss who hath not sung that e'er The harp to tender melodies hath touched? What is thy secret? What thy hidden joys, So pure, so full, that left far, far behind, In memory still they live; yea, dearer seem, As hoary age through gliding years steals on? E'en thy glad morning is not without clouds That cast their gloomy shades. Not all unwet With tears thy glowing cheeks; thy heart not free