To A Young Lady.

Short is the time, my friend, since I
First heard thy voice, first saw thy face,
And yet, the days in gliding by,
Have left within my mind a trace--
A friendly trace of thee and thine,
Which I am sure will long remain
Within my heart, to cheer and shine
With other joys, to lessen pain.
It is my hope, also, that thou
May, in thy heart, and on thy tongue,
Have thoughts and words for him, who now
Is yours so friendly, T. F. Young.

Thomas Frederick Young

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Thomas Frederick Young

Things Mysterious.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

By The Lake.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

David's Lamentation Over Saul And Jonathan.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

Temptation.

Thomas Frederick Young, Simple Poetry

English

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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

To Miss - -

In tracing here these lines, my friend,
Which spring from friendly heart,
I here record an earnest wish,
For thee, before we part:

May health and happiness serene,
Long, long with thee abide,
May youthful joys no sorrow bring,
Nor future woes betide.

And when thy youthful beauty leaves,
And youthful thoughts thy breast,
May thou in calm old age still live,
In happiness and rest.

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.

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

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