The Good Old Days

O, Many a year elapsed in the days gone by,

The hide and seek with pals, and the tug-of-war through my little try;

The twitter of the swallow, and the whistle of the quail,

As piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;

When the bloom was on the clover, and blue was in the sky,

my happy heart was brimmed over in the days gone by.

O, Many a year elapsed in the days gone by,

The music of the laughing lip, and the luster of the eye;

The childish faith in fairy tales and the magician's magic ring,

The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything,

When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh,

In the golden olden of the days gone by.