From “Youth and Age”
VERSE, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
      With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
            When I was young!
When I was young?—Ah, woful when!
Ah! for the change ’twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This...