Such as the slow world's vanguards are ever doomed to bear;
While from his eyes the yearnings of unemployed desire
Gleamed like the fitful embers of a half-smothered fire.
Alice, the country maiden, with the sweet, loving face,
Sung these words to an old air, with an unstudied grace:
There's nothing like an old tune, when friends are far apart,
To 'mind them of each other, and draw them heart to heart.
New strains across our senses on magic wings may fly,
But there's nothing like an old tune to make the heart beat high.
The scenes we have so oft recalled when once again we view,