And where the church-yard sleeps, so still, they look
With hearts of grief, and eyes suffused with tears.
Evening with smiles and tales has come, and round
The social circle blind-man’s buff is played.
Wisdom and years are straightway laid aside,
And manhood lives its childhood o’er again,
Seeking the golden shadows of the days
Long passed away.
And now the youngest having sought repose,
Friend after friend drops in with cheerful heart;