Bereave Me Not Of Fancy'S Shadowy Dreams, Which Won My Heart, Or When The Gay Career Of Life Begun, Or When At Times A Tear Sat Sad On Memory'S Cheek--Though Loftier Themes Await The Awakened Mind To The High Prize Of Wisdom, Hardly Earned With Toil And Pain, Aspiring Patient; Yet On Life'S Wide Plain Left Fatherless, Where Many A Wanderer Sighs Hourly, And Oft Our Road Is Lone And Long, 'Twere Not A Crime Should We A While Delay Amid The Sunny Field; And Happier They Who, As They Journey, Woo The Charm Of Song, To Cheer Their Way; Till They Forget To Weep, And The Tired Sense Is Hushed, And Sinks To Sleep.