{"newspaper_name": "The Litchfield County post.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 726, "word_count": 136, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9031000137329102], "ccnet_perplexity": [948.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
But the music ofyoung thoughts too soon Is faint and dies away, And from our morning dreams we wake To curse the coming day. And childhood's frolIc hours are brief,

 And oft in after years Their memoryEcomes to chill the heart, And dim the eye with tears. To day the forest leaves are green,

 They'll withcr on the morrow, And the maidens laugh will be chang'd ere 'ro the widows wall of sorrow. long Come with the winter snows, and ask

 SVhcre are the forest birds The answer is silent one

 More eloquent than words. The moonlight music of the waves

 Tn storms is heard no more, When the living lightning mocks the wreck At midnight on the shore. Ani the mariners song of home has ceased, His corse is on the sea - And =