As we’d seen the lovers do;
We the woods would oft explore
Where the fragrant flowers grew
In those happy days of yore.
And then to the second, the same image, lifting upward and away, above the clover-blooms and forest-flowers of sweet memory, comes like the peace of a benediction; and the words weave to quicker though to still sad notes.—
Time passed on and boyish fancies
Were by youth’s bright hopes replaced;
Gay companions were around me,—
Every pleasure we embraced.
And among those friends and schoolmates,