O'er Her Warm Cheek, And Rising Bosom,

To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance Their Many-twinkling Feet.

Visions Of Glory, Spare My Aching Sight! Ye Unborn Ages, Crowd Not On My Soul!

O'er Her Warm Cheek, And Rising Bosom, Move The Bloom Of Young Desire And Purple Light Of Love.

T'was Spring, T'was Summer, All Was Gay Now Autumn Bears A Cloud Brow The Flowers Of Spring Are Swept Way And Summer Fruits Desert The Bough

Ah, Tell Them They Are Men!