How he sleepeth! having drunken Weary childhood's mandragore, From his pretty eyes have sunken Pleasures to make room for more Sleeping near the withered nosegay which he pulled the day before.
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Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die!
thomas mooreFrom childhood's hour I have not been As others were I have not seen As others saw I could not bring My passions from a common spring From the same source I have not taken My sorrow I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone And all I lov'd I lov'd alone
edgar allan poeI thought that prattling boys and girls Would fill this empty room; That my rich heart would gather flowers From childhood's opening bloom. One child and two green graves are mine, This is God's gift to me; A bleeding, fainting, broken heart This is my gift to Thee.
elizabeth payson prentissThe tear, down childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
walter scott