Memphis Daily Appeal

Our steps from its greenness now—
And we miss the joy of many a heart
And the light of many a brow
For deep o'er many a stately barge
Here the whelming billows roll'd.
That steered with us from that early mark—
Oh! friends we are growing old
Old by the dimness and the dust
In our daily toils and cares,
Oh, in the wrecks of love and trust
Which our burdened memory bears.
Each form may wear to the passing gaze
The bloom of life's freshness yet.
And beams may brighten our latter days
Which the morning never met.
But oh, the changes we have seen
In the fair and winding way—
The graves in our path that have grown green.
And the locks that have grown gray
The winters still on our own may spare
The sable or the gold.
But we saw their snows upon brighter hair—
And friends, we are growing old.
We have gained the world's cold wisdom now
We have learned to pause and fear—
But where are the living founts, whose flow
Was a joy of hearts to hear?
We have won the wealth of many a clime,
And the love of many a page—
But where is the hope that smiled in Time
But is boundless heritage!
Will it come again when the violet wakes
And the woods their youth renew
We have stood in the light of sunny brakes
Where the bloom was deep and blue
And our souls might toy in the spring-time then.
But the joy was faint and cold—
For it never can give us the youth again
Of hearts that are growing old.