Here out on life's unaltering hills
You gaze with half-regretful eyes,
Where youth's autumnal twilight fills
Their depths with drifting memories
Of when you walked and knew no care
And idly stopped to disentwine
The blossoms woven in your hair
To lay them laughingly on mine,
Or to some windy hill would bring
Light thistle-down, and lost in thought.
Would watch it float, half wondering
What old-time home or star it sought.
Page:Stringer - Lonely O'Malley.djvu/281
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