Poems (Campbell)/Faded Pleasures
FADED PLEASURES.
How happy they, who, blest with health,
Can tread the flow'r-enamelled plain,
Nor heave one sigh for pomp or wealth,
Nor waste their days in search of gain.
Can tread the flow'r-enamelled plain,
Nor heave one sigh for pomp or wealth,
Nor waste their days in search of gain.
The happiest of their kind they roam,
From heart-corroding-anguish free;
Their's is a humble, happy home,
Oh!—had such bliss been stor'd for me!
From heart-corroding-anguish free;
Their's is a humble, happy home,
Oh!—had such bliss been stor'd for me!
Cheerless I see the sun arise;
And listless mark his setting beam
With crimson paint the western skies;
And still of faded pleasures dream.
And listless mark his setting beam
With crimson paint the western skies;
And still of faded pleasures dream.
Pleasures that never can return;
Yet, ah! while mem'ry holds her place,
Their rapid flight shall Ella mourn,
And still those faded pleasures trace.
Yet, ah! while mem'ry holds her place,
Their rapid flight shall Ella mourn,
And still those faded pleasures trace.