A RHYME OF CHANGING CHILDREN,

A RHYME OF CHANGING
CHILDREN.

HERE are last year’s little folk,
Whom we loved and knew?
—Hair a trifle browner gold;

Eyes not quite so blue.

Where’s that curve in Rose-Red’s cheek
Used to please me so?

Where, the curls that Love-Locks had
Not so long ago?

Just as Spring in Summer’s lost,
Sure it is and clear,
Every child is children four

In a single year!

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