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« The scenes where erst our careless Childhood stray’d,” 
Or those which Youth’s more fervid pleasures shared: 
Oh ! ne’er may dark Oblivion’s spells be laid 
On aught so loved, so sacred, so endeared: 
Let not one look, one tone, one scene be lost, 
Though many a tender tear the sweet remembrance 
cost. 
And other joys thou hast,—a motley train — 
Wherewith to while away a vacant hour; 
Perchance they hold us by a slighter chain, 
Yet the heart owns their fascinating power. 
To those, whom Nature’s sacred joys delight, 
Oh! what sweet visions, Memory, canst thou bring, 
Of stream, of valley, or of wood-crown’d height, 
Now in mom’s pearly lustre glistening, 
Now in the full broad glare of noon arrayed, 
And now half hid from view in evening’s purple 
shade. 
Oh ! to hold converse with the whispering trees, — 
To list the brooklet’s sweet continuous chime, 
The varying cadence of the evening breeze, 
Or “ song of early birds ” at matin-time: 
