The old man's cheek was wet with tears,
And his wrinkled brow was pale,
As after a lapse of many years
He stood in his native vale.

The warblers sang in the leafy bough,
And the earth was robed in green;
But the old man's heart beat sadly now
While he gazed on the lovely scene.

The stream ran clear to the distant sea,
The same as he saw it last;
And sitting beneath an old elm tree,
He thought of days in the past.

He thought how he climbed the verdant hill,
Or roved through the forest wild,
Or traced to its source the rippling rill,
A gay and careless child.

And as he thought of the happy throng
That around him used to crowd
With the ringing laugh and the joyous song,
The old man wept aloud.

For well he knew they would meet no more
On the dreary shores of time,--
But he looked away to a brighter shore,
He looked to a deathless clime.