That can e’er from my memory pass:
For they lie on my heart with the power of a spell,
Like the first love I felt for a lass.
Ay, there is the river in which I swam,
The field where I used to play—
The fosse where I built the bridge and the dam,
And the oak in whose shade I lay:
But, oh, how changed a thing I am!
And how unchanged are they!
Time was—ah! that was the happy time!—