Classic Poem

O, THE Hours! the happy Hours;
When there shone the light of Love,
And all the sky was blue above,
And the earth was full of flowers!
Why should Time and toil
The worth and beauty spoil
Of such happy Hours?

O, the Hours! the spring-time Hours!
When the Soul doth forwards bend,
And dream the sweet world hath no end,
Neither spot, nor shade, nor showers!
Can we ne'er resume
The love, the light, the bloom
Of those vernal Hours?

Ever do the year's bright Hours
Come, with laughing April, round,
And with her walk the grassy ground,
When she calleth forth the flowers:
But no new springs bear
To us thoughts half so fair
As the by-gone Hours!