The Morn of Life, by Anne S. Bushby

The Morn of Life

Where shall we seek the softest bloom?
On childhood's rosy, dimpled cheek;
That cheek which brightest smiles illume,
The smiles which innocence bespeak.   And where, on earth, dwell hope and truth?
In childhood's uncorrupted heart;
Alas! Too soon to guileless youth
The world doth its dark code impart!   Ah, then, before the opening mind
Become the prey of human strife,
While yet to earthly evil blind,
Bless'd be the happy Morn of Life!

poems.one - Anne S. Bushby

Anne S. Bushby