by Stephen Collins Foster (1826 - 1864)

Tell me love of thy early dreams
Language: English 
Tell me love of thy early dreams, 
How they flitted away? 
How they flow'd with morning beams, 
Fading with the day? 

Oh! speak of thy childhood's years, 
Pleasures now flown, 
All thy innocent smiles and tears, 
Where, where have they gone? 

Know'st thou not that the fondest hopes 
Beam, then wither away? 
Know'st thou not that the fairest flowers, 
Bloom but to decay? 

Why, why have hope's brightest beams? 
Faded at last; 
Where, oh where are thy early dreams 
Gone, gone with the past.


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Researcher for this text: Laura Prichard [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2015-12-25
Line count: 16
Word count: 84