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Poems: With a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Annie R. Smith

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    The Friends of my Youth: Where are They?

    Oh, where are they who once did tread
    With me, in youth’s sweet sunny morn,
    The winding labyrinths that led
    Where sweetest flowers the path adorn;
    And gladsome birds send forth their lay,
    And rivulets murmur on their way?
    PSAS 107.2

    Oh, where are all the glad and gay,
    That filled the brightly-lighted hall;
    With loving hearts to music’s lay,
    Responded to the joyous call?
    With blooming cheeks and beaming eye,
    They dreamed of joy and heaved no sigh.
    PSAS 107.3

    Some swept adown life’s rolling tide,
    By summer breezes borne along,
    With prosperous gale they gently glide,
    Like some sweet fairy boat of song;
    And bask in pleasure’s sunny fold,
    And revel in their glittering gold.
    PSAS 107.4

    And some are rudely borne along,
    By dark misfortune’s chilly blast;
    The storm and tempest coming on,
    The sky with clouds is overcast,
    Till weary of their toil and care,
    They sink in darkness and despair.
    PSAS 107.5

    And some, whose sunny hopes have fled,
    Like th’ withered and deserted flower,
    On which no tenderness is shed,-
    They sicken in a single hour;
    And e’en in youth and beauty’s bloom,
    Are ushered to the silent tomb.
    PSAS 108.1

    And some in yonder graveyard sleep,
    Beneath the ever verdant soil;
    Where mortals ne’er are known to weep:
    They rest from all their pain and toil;
    Away from care, from sin set free,
    They peaceful rest, O God, in Thee.
    PSAS 108.2

    A few are left to struggle on,
    Through dangers that beset life’s way;
    To mourn that all the loved are gone,
    To weep and struggle, and to pray,
    That all in Heaven at last may meet,
    And joy each other there to greet.
    PSAS 108.3

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