Classic Poem

O memory,
Again I wander thru the realm
Of unforgotten days,
I tread upon the down softness
Of a lane of leaves,
Where the scent of pine-trees lingers.

And now walled in
By God's great hills, I tarry
With the kindly mountaineers,
Around a blazing fire-place,
And listen to an old man, reminiscent.
While pattering rain-drops make music,
On the slanting roof.

The fire-light dims,
And then comes peaceful slumber
Within a white-washed room,
Until the sun of morn,
Gleams thru the weather-beaten logs:
O memory!
O realm of unforgotten days!