Joys Of Youth, How Fleeting! (Portuguese Air.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

Whisperings, heard by wakeful maids,
To whom the night-stars guide us;
Stolen walks thro' moonlight shades,
With those we love beside us,
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Tears starting,
At parting;
Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

Wanderings far away from home,
With life all new before us;
Greetings warm, when home we come,
From hearts whose prayers watched o'er us.
Tears starting,
At parting;
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Oh, sweet youth, how lost on some!
To some, how bright and fleeting!

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