Fleeting years are ever bearing
In their silent course away,
All that in our pleasures sharing,
Lent to life a cheering ray.

Beauty's cheek but blooms to wither,
Smiling hours but come to fly;
They are gone! Time's but the giver,
Of whate'er is doomed to die.

Thou mayst touch with blighting finger,
All that sense can here enjoy;
Yet within my soul shall linger,
That which thou canst not destroy.

Love's sweet voice shall there awaken,
Joys that earth cannot impart;
Joys that live, when thou hast taken
All that here may charm the heart.

As the years are gliding by me,
Fancy's pleasing visions rise;
Beauty's cheek, Ah! still I see thee,
Still your glances, soft blue eyes .