An' all the time, the wind blowed there,
An' I could feel it in my hair,
An' ist smell clover _ever'_where!--
An' a' old red-head flew
Purt' nigh wite over my high-chair,
_When we et on the porch!_




THE DAYS GONE BY

[Illustration: The Days Gone By--Title]

O the days gone by! O the days gone by!
The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye;
The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail
As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky,
And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days gone by.

[Illustration: In the orchard]

In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped
By the honeysuckle tangles where the water-lilies dipped,
And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along the brink,
Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink,
And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant's wayward cry
And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by.