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Bulkeley was a boys high school in New London many years ago. Occasionally, the headmaster would have the entire student body sing his old favorites.
This was one:
"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear.
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close
As the sunflower turns on her God when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose."
This song was written by Irish poet Thomas Moore for his wife, whose face had been marked by smallpox. To the young men of my grandsons' generation, if you have a special lady, tell her this was written for her. I did it for my special lady.