Poems (David)/The Past
For works with similar titles, see The Past.
THE PAST.
YES, by-gone days have such a charm, Unmatched by pleasure's gayest scene;Pure and short, her childhood's happy day, And boyhood's bright illusive dream!
The hazle copse and wooded knoll, Rise now again to us so fair;When voices hushed and faces fled Were once gay sporting with us there!
At times, amidst the twilight, book in hand, I watch the embers of the winter's fire;—The grey past rises: again I see A river, and a city's spire.
A rise of meadows, oh! so bright and green, With river creeping slowly all along;With hedge-rows gemmed with many a flower. Cheered by the throstle's gayest song!
And then a change comes o'er my dream, To my own dull and dusty nook;Where oft with aching head and weary brain, I toil along amidst my books.
Back comes the vision of the golden past,— Of boyhood, and my college day,—Of old familiar faces that I lov'd, Still unforgot, though pass'd away!
Oh! still amidst my waking dreams I hover O'er the noble city's ancient street;And with friends long buried, tread them Once again with busy feet!
The old hazel copse I loved so well My feet may track no more;No, the grand old city, quaint and gay, Still rises as of yore!
Now forty long years have come and gone, My earliest boyhood's hopes fulfilled,Since first I saw those towers rise, And felt ambition's latent thrill!
Oh! time has come! and time must go!— And pleasures all have pass'd away;—Yet still from those glad seasons shine Mem'ries too bright to know decay!