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tly beams. Thus in the Christian's breast Pure faith may lie, Hid in the day of rest Deep from the eye; But when life's shadows lower Faith lights the darkest hour, Driving, by heavenly power, Gloom from the sky. DAY-DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS. There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, And time long, long departed, like the present still appears; And I revel in the sunshine of those happy, happy hours, When the sky of youth was cloudless, and its path was strewn with flowers. O those days of dreamy sweetness! O those visions of delight! Weaving garlands for the future, making all of earth too bright; They come creeping through my memory like messengers of peace, Telling tales of bygone blessings, bidding present sorrows cease. Long-lost friends are gath'ring round me, smiling faces, gentle forms, All unconscious of earth's struggles, all unmindful of its storms-- Beaming radiantly and beautiful, as in the days of youth, When friendship was no mockery, when every thought was truth. Joy, illuming every bosom, made fair nature fairer still-- Mirth sported on each summer breeze, and sung in every rill; Beauty gleaming all around us, bright as dreams of fairy land-- Oh, faded now that lustre, scatter'd far that happy band! Now deeply traced with sorrow is the once unclouded brow, And eyes that sparkled joyously are dim with weeping now; We are tasting life in earnest--all its vain illusions gone-- And the stars that glisten'd o'er our path are falling one by one. Some are sleeping with their kindred--summer blossoms o'er them wave; Some, lonely and unfriended, with the stranger found a grave; While others now are wand'ring on a far and foreign shore, And that happy, loving company shall meet--ah! never more. But afar in mem'ry's garden, like a consecrated spot, The heart's first hopes are hidden, and can never be forgot; And the light that cheer'd us onward, in our airy early days-- Oft we linger in the distance to look back upon its rays. Old Time, with hand relentless, may shed ruins o'er the earth, May strew our path with sorrow, make a desert of our hearth-- Change may blight our fairest blossoms, shroud our clearest light in gloom; But the flow'ry fields of early years shall never lose their bloom. AFF
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