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—Oh! bitter to the youthful heart, That scarce a pang, a care has known, The hour when first from scenes we part, Where life's bright spring has flown! Forsaking, o'er the world to roam, That little shrine of peace—our home! E'en if delighted fancy throw O'er that cold world, her brightest glow, Painting its untried paths with flowers, That will not live in earthly bowers; (Too frail, too exquisite, to bear One breath of life's ungenial air;) E'en if such dreams of hope arise, As Heaven alone can realize; Cold were the breast that would not heave One sigh, the home of youth to leave; Stern were the heart that would not swell To breathe life's saddest word—farewell! Though earth has many a deeper woe, Though tears, more bitter far, must flow,