Only page of title Fairly Difficult
218
4
And filled it is with plenty and to spare, --
But we are lonely here in life's decline,
Though fortune smiles around us everywhere:
We look across the gold
Of the harvests, as of old --
The corn, the fragrant clover, and the hay
But most we turn our gaze,
As with eyes of other days,
To the orchard where the children used to play.
The barn and granary-bins are bulging o'er:
The grove's a paradise of singing birds-
The woodland brook leaps laughing by the door
Yet lonely, lonely still,
Let us prosper as we will,
Our old hearts seem so empty everyway --
We can only through a mist
See the faces we have kissed
In the orchard where the children used to play.
