What a gloom and what a chill
Hang about old haunts of ours,--
Where, at childhood's wayward will,
Long ago we gathered flowers;
Where, in youth's romantic prime,
Long ago we met and parted,
In the olden golden time
When we went so eager-hearted!

Ah! but in those long agoes,
With their dreamy dear old places
And forgotten joys and woes
And their unforgotten faces,
How much sorrow ever hides,
Leaving what we loved behind us;
While, how swift our life-dream glides,
These sad long agoes remind us!