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I LOVE to look on a scene like this,
Of wild and careless play,
And my locks are not yet gray;
And makes his pulses fly,
And the light of a pleasant eye.
I have walked the world for fourscore years ;
And they say that I am old,
And my heart is ripe for the reaper, Death,
And my years are well nigh told.
I'm old, and “ I 'bide my time:”
And I half renew my prime.
Play on, play on; I am with you there,
In the midst of your merry ring ;
And the rush of the breathless swing.
And I whoop the smothered call,
And I care not for the fall.
I am willing to die when my time shall come,
And I shall be glad to go;
And my pulse is getting low;
But the grave is dark, and the heart will fail
In treading its gloomy way; And it wiles my heart from its dreariness,
To see the young so gay.
A CHILD'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF A STAR.
She had been told that God made all the stars
Filled her young heart with gladness, and the eve