Classic Poem

But ah! the long gone happy hours
Of sunny days, in summer-tide,
In home-field bright with shining flow'rs,
Or sweet with new-mown grass, half-dried;
Where voices laugh'd at merry words,
Below the songs of many birds,
As slid the time away,
In tree shades wheeling round so slow,
That they to me seem'd not to go,
But linger at a stay.

But now, as I by night come through
The lonely field with thoughts of day,
The cows lie sleeping in the lew,
Where then our friends were young and gay;
And cooler winds now scatter down
The elm leaves, faded into brown,
As slides the hour away,
Where moon cast tree shades wheel so slow,
That they to me seem not to go,
But linger at a stay.

There seems but little change to me
In field or path where'er I roam;
The change is where I miss to see
The life that lived in this old home.
At yonder house, no sun or fire
Shines now on its old dame or sire,
Whose time is pass'd away;
And yet to us who linger on,
It seems as if it had not gone,
But this were still their day.