Classic Poem

Sighing I see yon little troop at play,
By Sorrow yet untouch'd, unhurt by Care;
While free and sportive they enjoy to-day,
" Content and careless of to-morrow's fare! "
O happy age! when Hope's unclouded ray
Lights their green path, and prompts their simple mirth;
Ere yet they feel the thorns that lurking lay
To wound the wretched pilgrims of the earth;
Making them rue the hour that gave them birth,
And threw them on a world so full of pain,
Where prosperous folly treads on patient worth,
And, to deaf Pride, Misfortune pleads in vain!
Ah! — for their future fate how many fears
Oppress my heart — and fill mine eyes with tears!