The glory of Spring-time on valley and hill,
That struck to my heart with a rapturous thrill,
And friends in the sunshine of life’s early ray,
Young, happy, and gay.
All vanished and gone!
Could I see it indeed as in spirit I see,
The home of my youth would be joyless to me;
Like a bird’s empty nest when the tenant has flown,
Deserted and lone.
Soft, softly it rings!