Poems (Chitwood)/Since You and I were Young

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

SINCE YOU AND I WERE YOUNG.

I'm standing by the window sill
 Where we have stood of yore;
The sycamore is waving still
 Its branches near the door;
And near me creeps the wild-rose vine
 On which our wreaths were hung—
Still round the porch its tendrils twine,
 As when we both were young.

The little path that used to lead
 Down by the river shore,
Is overgrown with briar and weed,—
 Not level as before.
But there's no change upon the hill
 From whence our voices rung—
The violets deck the summit still,
 As when we both were young.

And yonder is the old oak tree,
 Beneath whose spreading shade,
When our young hearts were light and free,
 In innocence we played;
And over there the meadow gate
 On which our playmates swung,
Still standing in its rustic state,
 As when we both were young.

I see the little moss-grown spot,
 Beneath the yew-tree's shade,
Where early friends, perchance forgot,
 In earth's embrace are laid;
The early friends of hope and trust,
 'Round whom our being clung,
All slumber coldly in the dust,
 Since you and I were young.