Boyhood

Washington Allston (1779–1843)

AH, then how sweetly closed those crowded days!

The minutes parting one by one, like rays

That fade upon a summer’s eve.

But O, what charm or magic numbers

Can give me back the gentle slumbers

Those weary, happy days did leave?

When by my bed I saw my mother kneel,

And with her blessing took her nightly kiss;

Whatever time destroys, he cannot this;—

E’en now that nameless kiss I feel.