In the cool and fragrant dunlight
Of the woodlands, wet with dew,
Looking out towards the sunlight
Here I stand—­but where are you? 
Where are summer’s lusty leaves,
Where the swallows from the eaves,
And the hopes, and dreams, and longings that in those old days we knew?

Many a spring has blossomed brightly
On the grave of a dead past,
Many a summer has tossed lightly
Her cast leaves upon the blast;
And as autumn fades away
Into winter’s quiet grey,
Comes the hope:  eternal springtide will give back my friend at last!