Turn back, O Time, to where the young years rove
And smile with rosy lips and sing through joyous days;
The dull feet grow so heavy, and so far the ways
They wander from my love!
II.
It was not this world where the dancing feet
Kept pace with joy and leaped through lanes of perfect hours;
It was that far-off world that sang with birds and flowers,
And all the raptures sweet.
III.
It was not this world where our glad lips clung,
And close between the long-drawn kisses fondly told
Of dreams revealed not and of ecstasies that rolled
From glad hearts always young!
IV.
The dream-face beckons yonder,—beckons o'er
The long years fled afar and lapse of longing days,
Who leaned against my bosom in the love-wreathed ways.
Then fled, and came no more!
V.
Turn turn, O, Time, and lead with thy hard hands
Me like a child back where two young hearts fondly met:
A music laughs there always, and beyond the dim eyes wet
Love rules her perfect lands!