Appendix. 259 



L>AYS GOXE BY. 



O the days gone by! O the days gone by! 



The apple in the orchard and the pathway through the rye; 



The chirrup of the robin and the whistle of the quail. 



As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale; 



When the bloom was on the clover and the blue was in the sky, 



And my happy heart brimmed over in the days gone by. 



In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped 

 By the honeysuckle's tangles, where the water lilies dipped, 

 And the ripple of the river lipped the moss along the brink. 

 Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink. 

 And the tilting snipe stood fearless on the truant's wayward cry, 

 And the splashing of the swimmer in the days gone by. 



O the days gone by! O the days gone by! 

 The music of the laughing lip, the luster of the eye; 

 The childish faith in fairies and Aladdin's magic ring. 

 The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything. 

 When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh, 

 In the olden, golden glory of the days gone by. 



— James Whitcomb Riley. 



