Memory Of The Old Time Poem by James Ephraim McGirt

When bygone days come rushing to my memory,
Those happy days I spent when but a boy,
It brings to me a picture tinged with sadness;
And yet, somehow my heart is filled with joy.

I view myself now strolling through the cornfield,
And gazing on the silks and tassels gray;
And through the woodlands, 'till I'd reach the brooklet,
For minnows there I'd fish 'till close of day.

Those good old days are gone, and years of sadness
Have wrapped themselves around that happy lad;
No more at day to wander through the woodlands,
No more at night around my dear old dad.

I remember well how in the early springtime
The meadow and the orchard were in bloom,
How John and I'd go bounding o'er the hillside
At ev'n when time to bring the cattle home.

I speak of John, but Ah! he too has left me,
His body's lying mouldering in the clay;
I gaze around to see my boyhood comrades,
They, like my youth, from me have passed away.

My dear old friends have gone, and years of sadness
Have wrapped themselves around that happy lad;
No more at day to wander with my comrades.
No more at night around my dear old dad.