Through the sounds of war and labour
She had warbled all day long,
While the Angels leant and listened
Only to her song.
But the starry night was coming;
When she ceased her little lay
From the mountain top the Angels
Slowly passed away.
VERSE: GOLDEN DAYS
Golden days—where are they?
Pilgrims east and west
Cry; if we could find them
We would pause and rest:
We would pause and rest a little
From our long and weary ways:-
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Ask of childhood’s years,
Still untouched by sorrow,
Still undimmed by tears:
Ah, they seek a phantom Future,
Crowned with brighter, starry rays;—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Has Love learnt the spell
That will charm them hither,
Near our hearth to dwell?
Insecure are all her treasures,
Restless is her anxious gaze:-
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Farther up the hill
I can hear the echo
Faintly calling still:
Faintly calling, faintly dying,
In a far-off misty haze:-
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
VERSE: PHILIP AND MILDRED
Lingering fade the rays of daylight, and the listening air is chilly;
Voice of bird and forest murmur, insect hum and quivering spray
Stir not in that quiet hour: through the valley, calm and stilly,
All in hushed and loving silence watch the slow departing Day.
Till the last faint western cloudlet, faint and rosy, ceases blushing,
And the blue grows deep and deeper where one trembling planet shines,
And the day has gone for ever—then, like some great ocean rushing,
The sad night wind wails lamenting, sobbing through the moaning pines.