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REMINISCENCE.
  
  
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REMINISCENCE.

Whose is the heart that never beat,
With all it fancied yet of joy,
Returning to that blest retreat
Where he so fondly roved a boy;
When, after years of wandering grief,
Pursuing phantoms sweet but vain,
His wearied spirit seeks relief
In dear but homely haunts again?
When the old roof-tree fresh appears,
The lowly cottage-thatch and dome,
Which shelter'd well his boyish years,
And taught the virtues sweet of home.
The well-known plain, the ancient grove,
In all unchanged, as when he sped,
By Fate or Fancy taught to rove,
To worlds that gave him naught instead!
Ah! sicklied in the wasting chase,
By idlest hopes misled no more,
How fondly doth his thought retrace
The scenes that fill'd his heart before!
Here still the oak whose spreading arms
Gave shelter from the noonday heat;—
Here still the maid whose childish charms

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His childish fancy felt were sweet;
Here still the mead whose ample grounds
Gave scope to boyhood's eager flight;
And there the “old-field school,” whose sounds
Spoke less for study than delight.
How natural do they all appear,
By time untouch'd, by age unbent;
The maiden still more bright and fair,
More wise and yet as innocent;
The oak scarce lustier in its might,
With bearded moss well-known of old,
And groves that gladden green in sight,
With song-bird gay and squirrel bold!
How swift the backward glance which runs
O'er thousand memories still as new
As if, unchanged by thousand suns,
The heart were fresh and changeless too!
What loves, what strifes, what hopes and fears
Grow thick about the laboring thought,
Until, unconscious of its tears,
The eye no longer sees the sought.
Memory, triumphant o'er the past,
Restores each dear possession gone;
And the world's orphan, long outcast,
Deems each lost treasure still his own!
Oh! stay the dream! Let Memory sway,
Nor all too soon the truth unfold,—
The cottage roof-tree in decay,
The sire, the friend, the maiden cold!