Poems (Chitwood)/Dreaming in the Twilight

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DREAMING IN THE TWILIGHT.
Dreaming in the twilight's Soft and golden glow—Going sadly backward, Where I used to go.Thinking of the homestead, With its roof of brown,Where the rains of summer Silently came down;Thinking of the robin Fashioning her nest, ​In the little window Looking to the west;Thinking of the forest, Where I used to dream;Listening to the lily-bells, Ringing by the stream;Thinking of the lambkins, White as drifted snow;Going sadly backward, Where I used to go.
Dreaming, sadly dreaming, In the hush of day,Why the years, like billows, Sweep our joys away.On the mossy homestead Falls the gentle rain,I can never listen To it, there, again.Long ago the robin Ceased to build her nestIn the sunny window, Looking to the west.Long ago the lilies Died beside the stream;I can never wander There, again, to dream.Other lambs, with fleeces White and soft as snow,Skip among the daisies, Where I used to go.
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Not for homestead, slowly Crumbling in decay;Not for birds and flowers, That have passed away;Not for all these changes, Throbs my heart with woe,As I go, in fancy, Where I used to go.But I weep, while sadly Dreaming here, alone,For a hand that softly Slid from out my own.For a little hillock, Grassy, now, with years,Scooped along my pathway, Do I give my tears.If my friend were with me, I would never know,Or grieve for all the changes. Where I used to go.

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