Poems (Procter)/Golden Days
OLDEN days—where are they?
Pilgrims east and west
Cry; if we could find them
We would pause and rest:
We would pause and rest a little
From our long and weary ways:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
GOLDEN DAYS.
OLDEN days—where are they?Pilgrims east and west
Cry; if we could find them
We would pause and rest:
We would pause and rest a little
From our long and weary ways:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Ask of childhood's years,
Still untouched by sorrow,
Still undimmed by tears:
Ah, they seek a phantom Future,
Crowned with brighter, starry rays;—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Ask of childhood's years,
Still untouched by sorrow,
Still undimmed by tears:
Ah, they seek a phantom Future,
Crowned with brighter, starry rays;—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Has Love learnt the spell
That will charm them hither,
Near our hearth to dwell?
Insecure are all her treasures,
Restless is her anxious gaze:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Has Love learnt the spell
That will charm them hither,
Near our hearth to dwell?
Insecure are all her treasures,
Restless is her anxious gaze:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Golden days—where are they?
Farther up the hill
I can hear the echo
Faintly calling still;
Faintly calling, faintly dying,
In a far-off misty haze:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?
Farther up the hill
I can hear the echo
Faintly calling still;
Faintly calling, faintly dying,
In a far-off misty haze:—
Where are they, then, where are they—
Golden days?