THE LOST LAND
I HEARD them once—the blue birds' call,
The throstle's whistled tune,
And saw, a-down a winding lane,
Flecked with the sun or gemmed with rain,
The April's floral rune.
The throstle's whistled tune,
And saw, a-down a winding lane,
Flecked with the sun or gemmed with rain,
The April's floral rune.
Would I could find it once again,
That lane with blossoms gay;
For me 'twould mark the backward trail
To that lost realm where shadows fail,
The land of Yesterday.
That lane with blossoms gay;
For me 'twould mark the backward trail
To that lost realm where shadows fail,
The land of Yesterday.
Each time the spring comes o'er the hills
I follow in her lead
And seek again that dear, lost land
Where Love and I walked hand in hand
And learned life's golden creed.
I follow in her lead
And seek again that dear, lost land
Where Love and I walked hand in hand
And learned life's golden creed.
But down the barren, world-long leagues
That meet my aching gaze
No song bird calls or blossom peers—
The flotsam of the shriven years
Drifts with the vanished days.
That meet my aching gaze
No song bird calls or blossom peers—
The flotsam of the shriven years
Drifts with the vanished days.
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