How blest the glad hours that were spent in my childhood,
While roaming with joy in the warm summer air,
By the mead, and the fountain, the hillock, and wild-wood,
When youthful companions attended me there.
The scenes of my childhood I fondly remember,
When summer, and winter, and day after day,
We hasted to school, ‘mid the winds of December,
Or rambled among the wild flowerets of May.
How cheerful the evenings when sitting together,
With brothers, and sisters, and parents so dear–
We told pleasing tales while the cold wintry weather
Beat loud on the windows, and snow filled the air.
How oft, when alone, I recall recollections
Of happier scenes in my earliest day–
Of social enjoyments with friends and connexions,
Now sleeping in silence, or far, far away.
Those sweet sunny seasons, oh, who will restore me?
Alas, for their absence–they ne’er will return:
Though long since departed, they seem still before me,
And yet shall remain in fond Memory’s urn.
by S. Dryden Phelps (1842)