“WHEN GREEN LEAVES COME AGAIN”
Perhaps the following unpublished poem, which I wrote some years ago, will not be inappropriate at this season; it will “go” to the tune of the old English ballad, “The dawning of the day”:—
As I walk out one winter’s morn,
Along the Steeton Ing,
And as I gaze me all around
Romantic ideas spring.
I think upon my past career,
With antics all in vain;—
But I will be a better lad
When green leaves come again.
The little birds I cannot see,
Excepting now and then;
For they are far beyond the sea
And left the haunts of men.
The trees are bare, and every bush
Speaks out to me so plain—
That I should be a better lad
When green leaves come again.
The fields are like a silvery lake,
The mountain tops are white,
And rear their heads majestically—
To me a great delight;
And as I gaze on Rivock End,
Across the silvery plain,
Methinks I hear a voice speak out—
“Green leaves will come again.”
Green leaves came, and green leaves went,
And they are gone once more,
And I have never kept my vow,
Which makes my heart full sore.
But I will never “dee i’ t’ shell,”
But make that vow again—
That I will be a better lad
When green leaves come again.
And should I tarry here a while
To see the smiling scene,
When nature takes her snow-white cloth
And changes it for green,
I shall be faithful to my vow
With all my might and main;
For I will be a better lad
“When green leaves come again.”