THE
ROUNDELAY
.
FORGET
,
forget
the
playful
time
,
Let
every
trace
be
done
away
,
When
I
with
many
an
idle
rhyme
Was
wont
to
waste
the
summer's
day
.
Then
hope
was
new
,
and
love
was
young
,
And
fancy
on
her
poet
smil'd
,
And
as
my
roundelay
I
sung
The
cares
of
life
my
song
beguil'd
.
Now
hope
is
fled
,
the
heart
grows
cold
,
And
fancy
wears
a
cypress
crown
;
The
roundelay
grows
dull
and
old
,
And
all
the
gay
delights
are
flown
.
FORGET
,
forget
the
playful
time
,
Let
every
trace
be
done
away
,
When
I
with
many
an
idle
rhyme
Was
wont
to
waste
the
summer's
day
.