And fruit from the orchard you once loved so well,
And feast on the sugar, fresh made from the grove,
Where you and your brothers delighted to rove.
Come, sit in the shade of the clustering vine,
Whose tendrils around the old elm tree entwine.
Come, range o'er the intervale, island and plain,
And live o'er the days of thy boyhood again.
Thy Father in heaven seems acting his part,
He keeps those alive, once so dear to thy heart.
Thy brothers and sisters, and nieces a score,