Poems (Cary)/Changed

For works with similar titles, see Changed.
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CHANGED.
Alas, the pleasant dew is dry, That made so sweet the morn;And midway in the walk of life He sits as one forlorn.
I knew the time when this was not, When at the close of dayHe brought his little boys the flowers Ploughed up along his way.
The ewes that browsed the daisy buds Erewhile (there were but twain),Are now the grandams of a flock That whiten all the plain.
The twigs he set his marriage-day, Against the cabin door,Make shadows in the summer now, That reach across the floor.
The birds with red brown eyes, he sees Fly round him, hears the lowOf pasturing cattle, hears the streams That through his meadows flow.
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He sees the pleasant lights of home, And yet as one whose illsSeek comfort of the winds or stars, He stays about the hills.
The once dear wife his lingering step A joy no longer yields;No more he brings his boys the flowers Ploughed up along the fields.
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