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| I WANDER o’er each well-known field | |
| My boyhood’s home in view, | |
| And thoughts that were as fountains sealed | |
| Are welling forth anew. | |
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| The ancient house, the aged trees, | 5 |
| They bring again to light | |
| The years that like a summer’s breeze | |
| Were trackless in their flight. | |
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| How much is changed of what I see, | |
| How much more changed am I, | 10 |
| And yet how much is left,—to me | |
| How is the distant nigh! | |
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| The walks are overgrown and wild, | |
| The terrace flags are green,— | |
| But I am once again a child, | 15 |
| I am what I have been. | |
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| The sounds that round about me rise | |
| Are what none other hears; | |
| I see what meets no other eyes, | |
| Though mine are dim with tears,— | 20 |
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| The breaking of the summer’s morn, | |
| The tinge on house and tree, | |
| The billowy clouds,—the beauty born | |
| Of that celestial sea, | |
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| The freshness of the faëry land | 25 |
| Lit by the golden gleam,— | |
| It is my youth that where I stand | |
| Surrounds me like a dream. | |
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| Alas! the real never lent | |
| Those tints, too bright to last; | 30 |
| They fade, and bid me rest content | |
| And let the past be past. | |
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| The wave that dances to the breast | |
| Of earth can ne’er be stayed; | |
| The star that glitters in the crest | 35 |
| Of morning needs must fade. | |
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| But there shall flow another tide, | |
| So let me hope, and far | |
| Over the outstretched waters wide | |
| Shall shine another star. | 40 |
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| In every change of man’s estate | |
| Are lights and guides allowed; | |
| The fiery pillar will not wait, | |
| But, parting, sends the cloud. | |
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| Nor mourn I the less manly part | 45 |
| Of life to leave behind; | |
| My loss is but the lighter heart, | |
| My gain the graver mind. | |
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