To A Friend.

The youthful joys of vanish'd years,
The joys e'en now we share,
Have something of a sacred bliss,
Which time can not impair.

For when the years of youth have gone,
Its joys and hopes have flown,
The mem'ry clings with fond embrace -
Those joys are still our own.

Then, as I write these words for you, -
This earnest wish I pen:
That you may think but pleasant thoughts -
When life's liv'd o'er again.

May nought of sorrow, or of woe,
Invade to wound or pain,
And may the joys that we have shar'd
Be bright in mem'ry's train.

Thomas Frederick Young

No biography available

Thomas Frederick Young

Ireland.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

The Pine Tree.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

The Huntsman And His Hound.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

Memories Of Schooldays.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To Miss - -

Youth is the time when all is bright;
The mind is free from care;
No thoughts of aught, save present joys,
Can find an entrance there.

And, if a thought of future years
Steal o'er the careless mind,
That thought speaks of a happier time
When years are left behind.

But when the years of youth have fled,
And life is fill'd with pain,
We think full oft of vanish'd years,
And wish them back again.

And oft this wish will soothe our pain,
And oft allay our woe,
Oh, sweet to us is mem'ry then,
When we think of long ago.

May thou live on till youth has pass'd,
And feel but little pain,
And may thou, in a blest old age,
Live o'er your youth again.

Thomas Frederick Young

To A Friend.

Within this little book of thine,
Are thoughts of many a friendly mind,
Express'd in words, on which you'll gaze
In after years, with feelings kind.

And while you're scanning o'er each page,
These lines I write, perchance you'll see,
And tho' they're penn'd by careless hand,
You'll know that they are penn'd by me.

Perhaps you'll think of school-days then,
Of happy school-days, long since past,
When you and I, in careless youth,
Thought that those days would always last.

Thomas Frederick Young

To A Friend.

In years to come, when looking o'er
These lines I've penn'd for thee,
I trust that thou shalt ne'er have cause
To think unkind of me.

And if you have, let memory
Try hard to blunt the dart,
And tho' I may deserve the blame,
Let kindness soothe the smart.

Thomas Frederick Young

To Miss - -

My friend of days, but not of years,
With kindly heart these lines I trace,
To tell you of a kindly wish,
Which I upon this page would place.

It is that thou thro' future years
May meet with very much of joy,
And just a little grief, because
Continued happiness will cloy.

And when, in future years, you read
What I to you just now have sung,
Let others praise or blame, do thou
Think pleasantly of T. F. Young.

Thomas Frederick Young

To A Friend.

With kindly thoughts full oft we've met,
And bow'd at Friendship's sacred shrine;
Oh, may we ne'er those thoughts forget,
But may they still our hearts entwine.

May both retain those feelings long,
Which prompt the words of friendly tongue,
May I not fail to think of thee,
Nor you to think of T. F. Young.

Thomas Frederick Young

Long Years Have Past.

Long years have past, old friend, since we
    First met in life's young day;
And friends long loved by thee and me,
    Since then have dropt away;--
But enough remain to cheer us on,
    And sweeten, when thus we're met,
The glass we fill to the many gone,
    And the few who're left us yet.
Our locks, old friend, now thinly grow,
    And some hang white and chill;
While some, like flowers mid Autumn's snow,
    Retain youth's color still.
And so, in our hearts, tho' one by one,
    Youth's sunny hopes have set,
Thank heaven, not all their light is gone,--
    We've some to cheer us yet.

Then here's to thee, old friend, and long
    May thou and I thus meet,
To brighten still with wine and song
    This short life, ere it fleet.
And...

Thomas Moore