Our First Young Love.
By Thomas Moore
Our first young love resembles That short but brilliant ray, Which smiles and weeps and trembles Thro' April's earliest day. And not all life before us, Howe'er its lights may play, Can shed a lustre o'er us Like that first April ray. Our summer sun may squander A blaze serener, grander; Our autumn beam May, like a dream Of heaven, die calm away; But no--let life before us Bring all the light it may, 'Twill ne'er shed lustre o'er us Like that first youthful ray.
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"Our first young love resembles..."
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