He sends the soft refreshing rain, The gentle summer showers, 'Tis the same God who form'd the flowers MY POETRY BOOK. OLD FATHER WILLIAM. "You are old, father William," the young man cried, "The few locks that are left you are gray; You are hale, father William, a hearty old man! Now tell me the reason, I pray." "In the days of my youth," father William replied, "I remembered that youth would fly fast; And abused not my health and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last." OLD FATHER WILLIAM. 89 "You are old, father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone! Now tell me the reason, I pray." "In the days of my youth," father William replied, "I remembered that youth could not last; I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past." "You are old, father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death! Now tell me the reason, I pray." "I am cheerful, young man," father William replied, "Let the cause thine attention engage, In the days of my youth, I remembered my God, And He hath not forgotten my age." SOUTHEY. HOPE ON! HOPE EVER! AWAY with needless sorrow; We cannot tell the reason In sunshine and in rain, Though evening-skies should lower, Can cause His sun to shine; |