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120
ALMA MATER
Lady, my thanks: this night my dream
Is of a pathway stretching fair
Through meadows bordering a stream,
And flowers, thy gift, spring everywhere.
Is of a pathway stretching fair
Through meadows bordering a stream,
And flowers, thy gift, spring everywhere.
By Grandchester, by Trumpington,
Our quiet Cam-side pacing slow,
At eve I pass, still musing on
The unseen years, as years ago.
Our quiet Cam-side pacing slow,
At eve I pass, still musing on
The unseen years, as years ago.
My flower-dream annulling time
Gives back the garnered hours to me;
Gives back a perished trick of rhyme
That hardly shapes these words to thee;
Gives back the garnered hours to me;
Gives back a perished trick of rhyme
That hardly shapes these words to thee;
Gives crowding thoughts of earlier days:—
Lost friend, whose love I ask in vain,
I walk the old oft-trodden ways
Thy hand within mine arm again.
Lost friend, whose love I ask in vain,
I walk the old oft-trodden ways
Thy hand within mine arm again.
121
Ah, the old days! The sun sank there:
Ah, the old days! Thus sped the hours:
But dream-born seems the perfumed air,
And of the dream my path of flowers.
Ah, the old days! Thus sped the hours:
But dream-born seems the perfumed air,
And of the dream my path of flowers.
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