IN THE FALL O' YEAR

I went back an old-time lane
In the fall o' year,
There was wind and bitter rain
And the leaves were sere.

Once the birds were lilting high
In a far-off May—
I remember, you and I
Were as glad as they.

But the branches now are bare
And the lad you knew,
Long ago was buried there—
Long ago, with you!

Thomas S. Jones, Jr. [1882-1932]