Classic Poem

While the day descends to night,
And the ev'ning air grows cold,
Let me think of all the light
I pass'd through ere I was old.
That's a thought that must be laid
Among the ashes of the dead;
Thought so bright in summer glow
Which is wintry wither'd now.

Let me think on days of pleasure,
Vig'rous limb, and causeless mirth;
Childish forms, my bosom's treasure,
Friends and lovers round my hearth.
Those are thoughts that must be laid
Among the ashes of the dead;
Thoughts so bright in summer's glow,
Which are wintry wither'd now.