Youth of delight! come hither
       And see the opening morn,
       Image of Truth new-born.
       Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
       Dark disputes and artful teazing.
       Folly is an endless maze;
       Tangled roots perplex her ways;
       How many have fallen there!
       They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
       And feel--they know not what but care;
       And wish to lead others, when they should be led.