The years will pass, and hearts will range, _You_ conquer Time, and Care, and Change. Though Time doth still delight to shed The dust on many a younger head; Though Care, oft coming, hath the guile From younger lips to steal the smile; Though Change makes younger hearts wax cold, And sells new loves for loves of old, Time, Change, nor Care, hath learned the art To fleck your hair, to chill your heart, To touch your tresses with the snow, To mar your mirth of long ago. Change, Care, nor Time, while life endure, Shall spoil our ancient friendship sure, The love which flows from sacred springs, In ‘old unhappy far-off things,’ From sympathies in grief and joy, Through all the years of man and b…
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