YOUTHFUL FANCIES.

The morning of a gladsome day in spring
Had scarce its freshness brought to weary men,
When, o'er the meadows wet, a boy did sing,
And whistled o'er a tune, and carroll'd-it, again,
In youthful happiness unconscious then
Of aught which time might bring, of pain or woe,
But careless, pitching stones in bog or fen,
It seem'd as if he buried there, also,
All worldly cares, so blithely did he onward go.

And yet he was no careless, heedless boy,
Who thought but of the present time alone.
Of future years he thought, but with such joy,
His thoughts but pleasure gave, nor caused a groan
From out the breast that claim'd them as its own;
His thoughts were of the future, fair and bright,
And fresh from his unburden'd heart, alone,
Untarnish'd by the hard and glaring light,
By which he yet might see with such a diff'rent sight.

A picture of the blissful future, he
Had gaily painted in his youthful mind,
And thought no color there too bright to be
An image of his share from fortune kind,
Which she, in future years, would give so free,
To him, the lucky sailor on life's sea.
He thought of honor, happiness and fame,