“Do you think of the days that are gone, Jeannie,
As you sit by the fire at night?
Do you wish that the morn would bring back the time,
When your heart and your step were so light?”
“I think of the days that are gone, Robin,
And of all that I joyed in then;
But the brightest that ever arose on me,
I have never wished back again.”
“Do you think of the hopes that are gone, Jeannie,
As you sit by the fire at night?