A poem by Walter R. Cassels

The days are past, the days are past,
When we did meet, my love and I;
And youthful joys are fading fast,
Like radiant angels up the sky;
But still with every dawning day
Come back the blessed thoughts of old,
Like sunshine in a morn of May,
To keep the heart from growing cold.

The flowers are gone, the leaves are shed,
That waved about us as we stray'd;
And many a bird for aye has fled,
That chaunted to us from the glade;
Yet every leaf and flower that springs
In beauty round the ripening year,
And every summer carol brings
New sweetness from the old time dear.

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