I remember, I remember how my childhood fleeted by

I remember, I remember

How my childhood fleeted by --

The mirth of its December,

And the warmth of its July;

On my brow, love, on my brow, love,

There are no signs of care,

But my pleasures are not now, love,

What childhood's pleasures were:

Then the bowers, then the bowers

Were as blithe as blithe could be,

And all their radiant flowers

Were coronals for me:

Gems to-night, love, gems to-night, love,

Are gleaming in my hair;

But they are not half so bright, love,

As childhood's roses were.

I was merry, I was merry,

When my little lovers came --

With a lily, or a cherry,

Or a new invented game:

Now I've you, love, now I've you, love,

To kneel before me there;

But you know you're not so true, love,

As childhood's lovers were.