THE DYING BOY. 167 



He lived and loved will sorrow say 



By early sorrows tried ; 

 He smiled, he sigh'd, he pass'd away ; 

 His life was but an April day, 

 He loved, and died ! 



My mother smiles, then turns away, 



But turns away to weep ; 

 They whisper round me what they say 

 I need not hear, for in the clay 

 1 soon must sleep. 



O, love is sorrow ! sad it is 



To be both tried and true ; 

 I ever trembled in my bliss : 

 Now there are farewells in a kiss, 

 They sigh adieu. 



But woodbines flaunt when blue bells fade, 



Where Don reflects the skies ; 

 And many a youth in ShireclifFs' shade 

 Will ramble where my boyhood play'd ; 

 Though Alfred dies. 



