Oh time of fairy fancies, of youth and its romances,
⁠Of green and happy valleys which our light steps wandered o'er;
With all their sweet birds singing, and dewy blossoms springing,
⁠The spell that once thy gates unsealed our lips repeat no more.

On ivied tower and hoary rests the same soft summer glory.
⁠On banks of yellow cowslips where the same glad streamlets run;
On the garden's scented posies, its white and crimson roses.
⁠And orchard walls where blushing fruits are rip'ning in the sun.

Full in the sunlight golden still stands the dial olden,
⁠With the dainty blooms around it, and above, the laughing day;
But there the shadows linger, where time's effacing finger
⁠O'er each sunny moment passeth, and beareth it away.

Where are the autumn rambles, through the mellow-fruited brambles.
⁠The nuttings in the dim woods, and the fairy tale and rhyme
To which our hushed hearts listened, while the wintry casement glistened
⁠'Midst the hoarfrost and the starlight in that "once upon a time"?

Till through our childish dreaming swept elfin glories gleaming,
⁠And we wandered 'mid green woodlands all aglow with flowery store;
Where a little loitering maiden, scarlet hooded, blossom-laden,
⁠With her small feet traced the mossy paths — returning nevermore.

Ye plots of blushing flowers, ye fragrance-breathing bowers,
⁠And the blackbird's joyous carol, under skies of softest blue:
Care is the dreary warden of life's enchanted garden,
⁠And the bitter herbs that grow therein, sad rosemary and rue.

The fount grown to a river, it backward floweth never,
⁠And manhood scorns the simple joys that once beguiled the child;
But on sternest paths of duty fall heav'n's dews in balmy beauty,
⁠As upon the daisied meadow, so upon the rugged wild.

After spring-buds, faint and tender, comes the summer's leafy splendour;
⁠After autumn's golden garner, the winter's sterile bough;
And the old man still remembers, sitting idly by the embers
⁠Glowing brightly on the hearth, the faded hopes of long ago.

Just a few days! Ah, such a few
Since the summer moon watched me and you
As we loitered along the golden sand.
Heart in heart and hand in hand;
And the waves, in eternal ebb and flow.
Chimed to your sweet words, soft and low,
Ah me! such a few little days ago.

Just a few days! The wooing breeze
Swept softly over the sleeping seas,
Whispering, whispering hope and truth.
In the happy language love teaches youth;
Which the tiny wavelets seemed to know.
As they broke at the feet that lingered slow
At their marge a few little days ago.

Just a few days! And to-night I stood
Alone at the edge of the rising flood;
There was not a murmur of joy for me
In the angry moan of the rising sea;
There was but a menace, stern and low,
Speaking of treachery, loss, and woe.
All wrought since a few little days ago.

⁠A little time for laughter,
⁠A little time to sing,
A little time to kiss and cling,
⁠And no more kissing after.
 
⁠A little while for scheming
⁠Love's unperfected schemes;
A little time for golden dreams;
⁠Then no more any dreaming.

⁠A little while 'twas given
⁠To me to have thy love:
Now, like a ghost, alone I move
⁠About a ruined heaven.

⁠A little time for speaking
⁠Things sweet to say and hear;
A time to seek, and find thee near;
⁠Then no more any seeking.

⁠A little time for saying
⁠Words the heart breaks to say;
A short sharp time wherein to pray;
⁠Then no more need for praying.

⁠But long long years to weep in,
⁠And comprehend the whole
Great grief that desolates my soul, —
⁠And eternity to sleep in.