Awaken them not, those sweet days of the past, Those days of the long, long ago, Let them sleep now in peace, away from the blast And blight of my cold winter's snow; Let the form of my youth be caressed in their arms, Let them smile in their dreams so free, For if they should awake, then youth's sweetest charms Would be flown, and leave—only me. Awaken them not, those dear days I have lost, Those days which do now seem sublime, Let them sleep sound and warm, secure from the frost, And safe in the arms of old Time; Let the blustering winds and the lean wolf's fierce cry Be hushed till their slumber is done; Let the soft summer breeze croon a sweet lullaby, And bring them a kiss from the sun. Awaken them not, those bright days that are gone, Those days which I then valued not, When I first saw the gleam of their roseate dawn, Nor gave to their passing much thought; Let them sleep on and on, I have not long to live, Why waken the past from its rest? The present I own, and the future will give Surcease to remorse, manifest. |