Where thymy turf grew green and soft,
The wild bee hummed, and rosy-red
The brier-flower bloomed, and up aloft
The fleecy clouds went drifting by
Like shades, across the summer sky.
And ever as the years go by,
And one by one old memories creep
From out the sweet Past solemnly,
I seem to see, beside the deep,
That little, lonely, silent spot,