I'm sorry the days go swiftly by,
The days of my youthful dreaming;
And O! for a thousand things I sigh
In the world of manhood's being.

Brightest days glide on, unheld by time,
Into the future, dark and dreary,
Brilliant eyes are dim, though bright lights shine
When the body's worn and weary.

A slave to thoughts, a slave to the pen
I'm laboring day after day,
Along the line with God-like men
I'm earnestly searching my way.

Our birthdays come and our birthdays go
Only once in every year;
'Part many long days, they are we know,
Yet, seemingly always so near.

My glad new year I hope it will be
Full of joy that's without sorrow,
For to-night I am twenty and three,
And eagerly wait each morrow.

MUSIC

Of all the rapturous things of life
That fill my soul with glee,
It is the sweet and gentle strains
Of music's melody.
Oft in the dark and quiet night,
While all things tired repose,
I listen to sweet nature's voice,
It rids me of my woes.
To dwell -- to think -- and listen too,
To all its joyous notes;
It is a glad, a happy mood
For all whom God promotes.
In nature it shall add to them
His beauties to foreshow,
All vanity of the world is lost
When we this sweetness know.
Without our music, all is cold,
The world seems vain and still;
The beauty of the home is gone,
No loving notes to thrill.
The Church step's dark,
With weeds o'ergrown,
The school-house soon decays;
When music is in silent death
There is no joyful praise.

BROKEN

The circle is broken -- one seat is forsaken,
One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;
One heart from among us no longer shall thrill
With the spirit of gladness, or darken with ill.
There's a beautiful picture that's before my eyes,
A painting that surely would Dore surprise;
A beautiful maiden with dark, wavy hair,
Is looking so lovely -- so handsome and fair;
The pride of her father, her mother's own queen,
That she is a beauty is plain to be seen.
There has no one seen such a beautiful face --
Such a nymph-like form -- such a charming grace;
And you will believe me, when this I tell,
That in love with the beautiful maiden I fell.
Her dear charming manner, her bright sunny smile
Would lighten the darkest -- the cannibals' isle
Ah! twas only a picture -- the mind's wild dream --
That beautiful original ne'er was seen.

William Wallace White - photo from Ancestry family trees.