Semi-weekly standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1853-18??, 1856-11-26
For the Sta ndard.
MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD.
BY JAMES ROBINSON,

BY JAMES ROBINSON.
TITS summer in the month of May,
And tits the twilight hour;
The sun has shed his parting ray
Ger mountain, tree, and tower:
And deep within the forests shades
Sweet natures lovely bowers;
With rock and tree, and silent glades,
dream away the hours.
shut my eyes, and revery
Comes Ger me like dream;
And now awakes sweet memory,
And fancy bids the theme.
Now, magic-like, l silently
To dreamland pass away;
Again my childhood's home Isee,
sing, and sport, and play.
again I am gentle hoy,
And fly from flower to flower,
To chase the butterfly with joy,
And while away the hour
Again climb the mountain top,
And meath some aged tree,
set and wonder of the sky,
The air, the earth, and sea.
Again sit beside the brook,
With thread tied to pin,
Turned at the point 10 form hook,
watch the fishes swim.
Silly let it down so slow,
And full an hour wait;
The little fellows seem to know
There's danger in the bait.
The streams so clear as look down.
see them and wait;
And now one bites and up jump,
But he's only stole my bait
Full twenty times they served me so,
But now one bites so sweet;
With all my strength my line throw,
And land him at my feet.
The scene is changed-'tis winter time.
The flowers have passed away;
The birds have ceased their thrilling chime,
And yet all earth looks gay:
Each lofty crag, and mountain top,
Are white with frosted snow;
Each tree and house, and chimney ton.
Are sparkling with the glow.
The school is out, and troops of boys
Rush wildly, leaping out,
With laugh and shout, and such noise,
The snow they toss about.
And snow-balling they now commence
I'm in my glory now:
Some boys have got behind fence,
Beneath hillock's brow
Bang goes ball-down goes a boy
Now rolling in the snow;
He's up again with shouts of joy,
Pell-mell, they at it 60.
IT'S strange they nerer feel the cold,
But Men their blood IS young:
They'll feel enovgh if they grow old,
What they neer felt when young.
The pond the pond shouts out bow.
Away the youngest run,
With skates jingiing smiles of joy,
And faces filled with fun.
Again I'm gliding DER the lake,
Again come humping down;
For joys like these would not take
A kingdom with its c,0eUn.
And now quite tired with our sport,
Each face like roses shone;
Just then pops in cheering thought,
Our dinners scaiting homie.
And now l start-peep up the street
There's sister at the door;
eat my lunch, then fall asleep,
And 20 skating as before.
Again skate with nobl., stroke,
Again l come tumbling down;
start-my revery is broke
l silently look round:
The moon is shining sweetly now,
The stars are iwinkling bright;
In silent revery, somehow,
I've sat far in the night
But quickly now the vision fades
To reality, too plain;
And deep within those forest shades,
lam a mem again.
A saddcn'd, weary man again,
With none to lOve-not one;
With none to love hm-'tis a pain
Twill last till life has done.
All menory and gentle Aope-
The brightest gifts to man:
A soothing, magic antidote,
To cheer life's weary span.
For memory calls up the hours,
Of chitdlood's halcyOn days;
Aud Aope points up to heaceniy 6owers
It's bright, inspiring rays.
'aleigh, N. c., Nov. Is, 1856.